I’ve written about this before, but let me reiterate: this season of life is hard. Seriously – it’s no joke, you guys. I’m pouring what little energy I have left into my job, which leaves no time for much else. My connections with friends are scant, although I know they’re there. We’re all running on our respective hamster wheels and just trying to get by. We make plans with the best of intentions and by the time Friday comes, we’re ready for bed by 9 p.m. – plans or not.
You know what? I miss those days of zero responsibility. Where I wasn’t trying to simultaneously establish myself in my career and grow and nurture a family. Where all that mattered was the next escape from reality, in whatever form.
Now, that same reality slaps me in the face on the daily. And what’s driving it is the immense weight of expectations heaved upon us as mothers — and as women who blog about motherhood in its various forms. The expectation to plan the perfect Pinterest-esque birthday parties that leave us broke and up all hours of the night. The expectation to maintain perfectly styled homes: the homes that serve as the backdrop for our perfectly styled Instagram feeds. The fake photo flat-lays and smiles that reek of bribery. The promises that it will all pay off someday if we just purchase this course or subscribe to this newsletter. And you know what I’ve realized? In the quest to earn the ultimate prize — more time at home with our children — we’re spending far too many hours in front of our phones and laptop screens and not enough face to face time with our babies.
Here’s what my brief stint in the “mommy blogging” world has taught me: no course or webinar or spreadsheet or printable is going to fix your life. I’m guilty of it too: my e-mail inbox is currently exploding with offers of this life-changing course or that 10 day challenge. Each minute I participate in one is a distraction from my reality: the reality that is my less than perfect life. But what is my less than perfect life? It’s a beautiful 4 year old green-eyed girl who is crying for my attention. I’m missing the silly moments because I’m so focussed on gaining more Instagram followers. It’s tough out there, ya’ll. Pinterest-envy is real, and it’s dangerous. Its lure is flashy and addictive, just like some pill we take in the hopes of magically living out the rest of our days.
Truth? I’ve been trying to make this blogging gig work. What have I wanted all my life? To write and make a living doing it. But no one wants to read about a whiny 32 year old and how she can’t get her shit together. Instead, we’re all dying for information on how to declutter, or meal plan, or conquer tantrums or plan the perfect party or fix our problems and live happily ever after. We’re looking for a blog post to give us THE answer (preferably in the form of “10 easy tips”). That one piece of critical information we’ve somehow overlooked that is going to miraculously change our lives.
And you know what? Blogging about meal planning isn’t setting my soul on fire. It’s exhausting coming home night after night after wrangling a 4 year old into bed to try to write a blog post about 14 meals to make from a rotisserie chicken. I just don’t have it in me. I’m not Suzy Homemaker, and I’m tired of pretending I am just to get views on a post.
Maybe no one will want to read what I write. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe people would rather I write about rotisserie chickens. And maybe sometime I’ll have the headspace to write about just that. But for now, to keep this going longer term and to avoid giving up before I feel I’ve even started, I’m writing for me. I’m writing whatever sets my soul on fire. And if you’re looking for advice on meal planning or decluttering, maybe this isn’t the place for you. The fact of the matter is there are hundreds upon thousands of posts on those very topics. Those topics just don’t come naturally to me, and take a LOT of effort to write.
So, here’s me. I’m far from a perfect housekeeper. My fiancé does more than his fair share of housework and I don’t feel the need to praise him for that (although there are moments I do) because ya’ll: it’s 2017. My house looks cleanest on Sundays, after I’ve manically cleaned it all day. We do our laundry once a week (on Sundays). I don’t eve
n iron. I don’t cook, but my other half does. He keeps us alive most days. Some days my kid drives me crazy, and I’m not afraid to talk about it. Sometimes my fiancé drives me crazy (okay, a lot of the time). Sometimes I get sad. I have unresolved abandonment issues. I still think way too much about people I shouldn’t waste 5 minutes of my time thinking about. I don’t sleep well. I eat chocolate every day. I’m at least 50 pounds overweight. I’m the worst when it comes to self-care. I’m painfully shy and awkward and I feel most at home when I’m home alone. I HATE THE LEGAL PROFESSION. I hate it for its fakeness and its obsession with status and its self-importance. I take antidepressants and would be a mess without them. I think way too much about the past and don’t appreciate the present.
I have a long way to go… but I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.