I said I was going to write honestly about my life, and I am already honestly cringing as I think back at a lot of the defining moments.

I look at cutesy online accounts and ‘ooh’ and ‘awe’ at the seemingly perfect stories told through picture perfect poses and adorable word play.  Though, their realities aren’t realities for everyone, and I’m lost as to why their stories are the only ones we seemingly give a dialogue to.  Their stories hold a monopoly over suitable life topics, emotions, and family lifestyles.  They are social masters who have discovered what is acceptable, and they politely stay within social boundaries.

It’s nothing to be upset over.  Everyone has an image they portray- everyone knows what is received with support, and what should be held close to their chest.

A lot of my stories are of the ‘hold close to my chest’ variety, and that is exactly what I have done.  My little family isn’t exactly cookie cutter, and I am not oblivious to the situation. Though, I certainly wanted others to be. 

Ultimately, as much as I cringe thinking of figuratively standing naked in front of anyone who chooses to read my blog, I keep reminding myself that it is worth it if just one person can somewhat relate to not having an ‘acceptable’ story.  It’s 2018- we are so BIG on being accepting of every walk of life, however, while we claim complete ‘support’, we often shy away from publically acknowledging our own truths because subconsciously we know select topics are still social taboos.

So, disclaimer: 

Occasionally, I will be writing about

the personal, 'cringey' taboos of my life.


Emily Pickerd