I’ve always told myself, and sometimes those of you reading, that I wouldn’t sugar-coat things here. The whole reason I started this blog was to be honest in a place that is known for people pretending to be something they’re not. People who are addicted to Instagramming a beautiful looking dish of their freshly-cooked dinner on the only clean corner of their dining room table. I used to be that person. But now, I like showing the rest of the dining room table.
So here’s the truth: all I’m writing these days are half-funny, half-finished posts.
I have a bunch of shit going on in my life that I’m not at liberty to talk about, and it makes the funny stuff seem really pale and ludicrous. I have moments of wanting to write my normal stuff, but then I get distracted, and I lose my mojo.
And then I see that post of mine that went viral a few weeks back, “Today, Mommy is an Asshole,” and I think, there’s no way I can top that. That post had 50K shares in 3 days. It’s still getting passed around and shared 100+ times a day. I can’t possibly have anything else to say that speaks to so many people. Great. So 5 months in, I’m done? That can’t be right.
But right now, it feels that way.
Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe I need a few more days, or a week. Maybe I need a really good therapy session, which I haven’t had in months now.
But for the time being, I guess I’m writing this post to remind myself that I’m here to show that messy dining room table. To show the truths that make people laugh, and make people sad, and maybe make people cringe, too.
So the truth, right now, is that life is an insane combination of beauty and pain and sweetness and stress.
Tomorrow, I turn 39. In the past year, my life has changed in ways I couldn’t have begun to comprehend, 365 days ago. I have SO many things to be thankful for, and continue to have so many things to feel anxious about.
I keep wondering when the hell I’m going to be a grown up. A GROWN UP. I’m fucking 39, people! I have a bunch of kids, and a bunch of big plans, and then I wonder how the hell we’ll pay our bills next month, and if we’ll ever own a house.
But I love my family. And I love those tiny, beautiful moments that I’m better at glimpsing than I used to be. So I guess I’ll just hold on to those, and wait for the heaviness to pass.
And keep writing.