What about me deserves any of this?
Some of you may have seen where I was featured on HuffPo last week. It was an incredible experience and Taylor was amazing to work with. Since then, apparently her article and my photo from two weeks ago has kind of taken off. These huge media platforms are reporting on my photo, and for the most part I have received really positive feedback that people appreciate my candor. It’s incredibly overwhelming to be in this position, and I’m so thankful to be able to share my truth.
However, there is nothing special about me that deserves any type of praise or acknowledgement – I have done nothing to deserve this recognition. I’m just me.
A woman with two children, an ever present rainbow, who struggles most days. A woman who has felt more anxiety than pride or excitement over my recent “15 minutes” (who also hates the egotistical way that sounds). And I am lucky enough to have a heck of a supportive husband who celebrates these victories even when I try to keep them under wraps to avoid the attention. Who is there to keep things above water when I can’t.
I am 1 in 4. I am 1 in 7. I am 1 in 5.
As many truths as I share, there are more that I don’t. For fear of what the response will be, for fear of embarrassment, but mostly for the fear that sharing confirms admission.
I am so glad that in our world today, we as people, as women, and as mothers can talk more openly about our struggles and our darkness, but I also think we still have a long way to go.
I have been thinking about my “WHY” lately, and am reminded about the reasons I started blogging and started posting on Instagram. It started as a way to share pictures with family members who didn’t live nearby, but grew into something so much more. Blogging started to become a release for me. A way to connect and let go of what I was feeling, and hopefully to help other women, other moms, other parents out there. That’s it.
I didn’t get into this to make money. I didn’t get in to this to become “Instafamous” or to become an icon (side note, I am not in any way saying I have become either of those). Those things have no significance to me (although I will admit that being able to contribute to my family financially while also being able to stay home has been invaluable). I just wanted a way to get the bad days off my chest. To share my successes and celebrate the wins, while also acknowledging that bad days do happen, and it’s okay that they do.
I have piles of posts written, but they sit in my drafts folder. Hidden. Because they don’t focus on the good parts of motherhood, but rather the dark. The feelings I experience when the house is quiet and the sleepy sounds are all my awake self can hear. Reading these posts helped me to realize that I am struggling, and that what may have started as Baby Blues has progressed into full blown postpartum depression and anxiety. The words are wraught with despondency and loneliness.
Because despite having a tribe, despite having a supportive husband, despite having people in real life I can talk to about these feelings, I struggle with allowing myself to. Because again, once the words leave my lips, it’s admitting it all.
I hate that I feel like this, and I hate thinking there are other women out there struggling who are experiencing the same thing. Who are also in the darkness and feeling alone. Who may not have the support I have, who wish they could take advantage of what I neglect.
My truth is not everyone’s truth, but it might be for some.
I want to share the beauty in life, but also the ugliness as I experience it. I want to be brave. To support, to shed light, and to hope. And that’s my why.