That’s the question we all get asked isn’t it?
How many of you answered with a simple “yeah fine?” when you really felt everything but?
So much has happened since I stopped blogging, the postman saw far to much of me than he ever should’ve, the rabbit had his balls done, my hair started falling out, we brought a new car, Nev took farting in public to the extreme and my mental health took a rapid decline. So you know, nothing too major.
I’ve been toying lately with the idea of blogging again. The reasons I stopped last time will no doubt, always be there and no doubt, my confidence will disappear once or twice, but, this time, I refuse to give up. Blogging is something I need to do. Something I need to do to keep my thoughts in check and channelled in the right way.
Today I was told by a “Mummy Blog” that I’d never have a successful blog, of that she could “guarantee me”, I was told my following would never grow and she could “promise me that” and then subsequently told to quit whilst I was ahead because I wasn’t good enough, I couldn’t do it.
Do you know what I did? I turned on Paul’s computer, signed up for my own domain and began choosing themes and all the other technical crap that I just don’t understand. And then I began writing. Writing before I planned, without my logo being ready, without any freshly shot photographs to publish. I just typed.
You see this is the thing. Throughout my whole life I’ve been told I couldn’t. Told I wasn’t good enough. Told I’d never be a someone and would always be a no one. But that cycle needs to stop and I’m breaking it right now.
I don’t blog to be successful. Career blogging takes time, it takes money, patience, energy and willpower. It takes bravery to put yourself out there and step out of the “traditional job” comfort zone. I don’t want all of that. I just want to write because I love it, because writing makes me forget all the rubbish hands and remember all the happy moments. Because writing my thoughts helps keep the anxiety from going into over drive and frankly saves the bog roll from yet another anxiety poo. (I swear the toilet flush is fast becoming my personal ring tone) I just want to do what I love because I AM good enough.
It’s been six weeks since I set foot through the door of my workplace. Six weeks ago, after one panic attack to many, I walked into the GP surgery, smudged my wing eyeliner with fresh salty tears and admitted I couldn’t cope. I took the weight off my shoulders and told her how I felt the world would be better without me in it, how I was dragging everyone down and how I’d even thought how many people would attend my funeral if I just gave up. I told her how I felt like I was failing at being a Mum, how I felt like I was going to end up changing Paul and would drag him down with me, I told her how going out in public alone made me feel physically sick, how I felt when I saw children playing happily with their parents, the pangs of envy I felt towards little tiny strangers. I told her how I felt like the happiest person alive to have everything I’ve ever wanted, yet the saddest around because of how I had to get there. The years of pain, abuse, fighting battles I couldn’t cope with, the years of heartbreak, cheating, put downs and grieving for people who are still alive. I told her the honest truth. Outside I was smiling but inside I was dying and nobody knew it but me.
I’m always the joker, if you read through my Instagram you’ll see I’m the first to crack a joke, to not take life too seriously, I will happily sit on the toilet and chat with you on a live chat whilst I relieve myself of the 73 cups of tea consumed in an hour.I will share funny quotes on Facebook and act the clown in front of friends. I mask my feelings well.
You could say I’m the sad clown.
I could say you were right.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve come a long way in six weeks. I can go for short walks alone, I can put my make up on some days and today I even straightened my hair, brushed my teeth and did the housework before 9am. I can’t promise tomorrow will be the same but I can promise you I am trying. And that my loves, is all I can do.
So to the delightful “Mummy blogger” who was so quick to call me all the names under the sun today and put me down. I hope you never say those things to your children or even in their ear shot and I hope the words you said today are never repeated to someone else because, like I said in response, it’s an ugly attitude to have. I hope you one day get to read this blog and know that you didn’t kick a girl when she was down, you kicked a girl when she was getting back up.
The only failure today was you thinking you could join the queue and put me down. Well I’m sorry, the queue ended six weeks ago when I walked into the surgery and asked for help. But I want to thank you, because you made me want to write again when I wasn’t sure I could.
And whatever I do, in my own way, I will succeed. I guarantee you.