Keepin' It Real

I struggle sometimes with how much of my life to share on this blog. I mean, I'm always surprised that anyone besides my mother reads this. (Hi mom! Thanks!) And because there are people out there that read this that don't know me from Adam, I think about what I'm writing and how I'm presenting myself and my family. I try to be honest but I also try to entertain because really, there are few things in this life that I love more than laughing and making other people laugh. I know that some people come here just to read about my dog, and that the posts that I write about my struggles with her are some of my most read. I realize that some people come to see what kind of craft idea I've stolen and copied. And for others, well, I'm just not entirely sure what they are getting out of coming here, but they keep coming back. And I'm grateful. For all of it. But...

Sometimes I am not feeling funny. Sometimes I am struggling. This is one of those times. I have a hard time even writing that down, knowing that people will discover that I don't have it all together all the time. That sure isn't the face I like to present to people. But I just can't seem to stop myself right now. There are things rattling around in my brain and pushing against my heart and writing seems the best way to work through it. I'm not going to overshare. Most of what I'm feeling are things I've felt before: I'm overwhelmed. I've had some epic parent fails this week. I'm discovering some things about myself that I don't like. I'm having my faith stretched. It hurts.

I'm sorry if this feels like a navel-gazing, pity-party of a post, but I'd feel less than honest if I put up some happy-go-lucky post when frankly, happy-go-lucky looks pretty damn far fetched right now. Sometimes life is just sucktastic and it feels better to just say so than to try to slap on a facade and pretend that everything is okay. So I'm saying it: Life right now, is pretty sucktastic.

When I was in high school and college, there would be times when I would feel pretty crappy about myself. I know I'm not alone in this. Everybody has had those times, right? I can remember crying to my mom about it. She totally understood. She came up with a phrase that we still use with each other all these years later: "I feel like a piece of puke." It's a pretty apt description, I think.

That's how I'm feeling. I don't like it. I don't even like mentioning it. It makes me feels small to think of it. With all that is happening in the world, it feels like the most selfish thing ever to feel so intensely self-focused. But things keep happening and I keep finding myself looking at me and who I am and what I'm about. I'm arguing with myself. I'm worried. I'm angry. I doubt myself and some decisions I've made. Then I turn around and get mad at myself for doubting myself. My skin is much too thin. Arrows have been launched, barbs have hit their marks. I am angry that I am passive about some things; that I just continue to let things go because it's easier not to make waves. Then, I become frightened of that anger and deny it. Who me? Angry? Nuh uh. It's all fine.

But it's not.

I know that this will pass. I know that I am not alone. I know that I am not the only one to struggle with my feelings and worry over how I handle situations. But you know? When you are in the ocean and the waves are big, you don't see the other souls out there bobbing on the water. What you see are the waves.