Yesterday I sat on my couch and stared at the computer screen for two solid hours. I wanted to write. I needed to write. But I could not find the words to get across the point that was weighing so heavily on my mind without stripping away the veneer of funny, haha, life is grand mom that I had so carefully perpetuated on my blog.
I was embarrassed to admit that I had failed. I was ashamed that I was nearly too embarrassed to share this up close and personal view of my life with those of you who care enough to read my writings on a regular basis. I was terrified that by putting out a raw, gut-wrenchingly honest post that wasn’t funny or uplifting, I would be letting you down. You didn’t sign up to ride the roller coaster. You signed up to be entertained and escape the roller coaster of your own lives.
I tried, time and time again to put together something funny and lighthearted, but the truth of my own state sat on my chest with the weight of an elephant. I could not breathe unless I came clean.
Your response was amazing. You are all amazing. When I fell down, hands stretched out from around the world and picked me back up again. Some of you tugged, some brushed me off, while others of you shooed me along my way to recovery and rediscovery. More importantly, you all opened up and shared your own stories. We created this sisterhood of struggling supermoms where admitting your own failings was the only price of admission.
This my friends is why we bloggers have to be honest. We can be funny and cheery 98% of the time, but 2% of the time we need to rip ourselves apart and let the world know that there is a price we pay for being ourselves. We need to substitute the picture with the 1000 words that went into getting us there. We cannot ask people what their excuse is for not looking like us, doing as much as us, soaring as high as we do, without telling all the gory details of the blood, sweat and tears that were shed along the way.
Next week I hope to be back to my regularly scheduled programming of silly tales and my misadventures (hint, we’re moving house, so that’s bound to generate a few golden nuggets). But before I go, I want to say thanks. Thanks for being there. Thanks for being awesome.