Doubt

If you know me at all, you'll know that I'm a pretty confident person. I have a relatively small fear of what people think of me (which might explain some of my...quirky...personal style choices during middle school), I'm pretty confident in my beliefs, and I love getting my way (which I realize is not a positive attribute of mine). Doubt just doesn't creep it's way into my life too often. But when it does, it's debilitating for me. I honestly don't have a very good way of dealing with it. My coping mechanism generally involves sitting on the couch doing nothing instead of actually solving the problem (very effective, I know).

So...this is hard for me to admit, but here goes:

I'm scared. I'm flat out scared of buying this home.

Don't get me wrong; our house is GORGEOUS. No really, it is. I love it. I love everything about it and I know that it is the right home for us. I understand that I shouldn't feel the way I do.

But everything looks different from a distance than it does when it's real and staring you in the face. I remember the first time Matt mentioned us getting married to me while we were dating. You should have seen my face--saying I looked like a deer in headlights would have been putting it gently. The truth is that the idea of marriage is much more appealing than the reality of marrying an actual person, with all their flaws and idiosyncrasies. And I think a similar thing is going on here.

The IDEA of owning a home is enticing. I want to put my stamp on a place, have room to grow, have a place to have dinner parties and social events, host friends when they come to town, etc. But the REALITY of pulling every dime I have in this world out of the bank, writing a check, and moving into a place is something totally different. It's real. And it's hard. And I'm not afraid to say it...I'm scared.