Monday, 12 May 2014

The honest truth

When I first started writing my blog I wanted to be brutally honest about my experiences as a new mother. The reality, though, soon became talking about things I never dreamt of sharing; the reality soon became vulnerability (aka humiliation). Now, I'm all for being open - it's like I can't help it, as though I've swallowed an honesty pill or something. The problem is, it doesn't make it any easier to talk about things that are painful or embarrassing, it's just something I set out to do at the start of my journey and the longer I continued the more raw the honesty became. Some of the things I wrote I cringed about posting because it meant that people knew that little bit too much; people I'd barely call acquaintances would tell me they'd read my blog and joke about my addiction to gas and air or my formula feeding woes. I started to wish I'd never begun. But for me, writing is my therapy and I want to cut through the crap that some mothers are made to feel. The only way to do that is to be vulnerable.

With only three followers (thanks), I figured people weren't reading this anyway and I came to the point where I thought I'd give up writing - or, I would still write but just for myself, save the trouble of meeting someone at the post office who would ask me how my cracked nipples were healing. I felt like everyone was thinking, 'here she goes, another blog post - TMI, go tell it to someone who cares'.

Oh, that'll be three people then.

Just as I was about to give up on baring my soul to the world I started to receive emails and anonymous messages from various mums who told me that my blog had really helped them. The things I wrote about were things that seemed to be unspoken, an accumulation of parenting taboos - the very things that leave mothers feeling isolated. Although these mums didn't feel able to publicly comment on my blog, people were reading it and it was helping mums to feel like they were not alone, and better still, encouraged.

So, as hard as this is for me (because there are plenty more embarrassing and brutally honest things I have to say), I shall keep on writing. I write for those hand-full of mums who feel that the world tells them they've failed because they didn't follow the 'norm' of parenting, whatever the hell that is. I write for the people who admit they find it tough sometimes; who admit they haven't got it all together (because Lord knows, I haven't). And I'll tell you all about it; the highs and the lows; warts an' all. Why? So you can laugh at me the next time you see me in the post office? Not really, but I don't blame you. I write so we can be a little more genuine with one another about how we're feeling about another sleepless night, another crayon mark on the wall, or another day of feeling you can't face leaving the house. I write so we can be a little more united and a little more helpful than the mothers who make you feel like you're a crap parent if you're not enjoying being one 100% of the time. Bollocks. You're chuffing awesome because you got through breakfast this morning without throwing their Weetabix over their heads (and if you didn't quite manage that today then, well, there's tomorrow, or the next day and the next). And I'm here to tell you how brilliant it can be too - to bring some kind of hope of the silver linings; the sloppy kisses, the crazy chaos, and learning from their beautiful freedom.

So, thank you if you're still reading this. It means a lot. Because I feel like a complete and utter plonker sometimes, but I do it for you. Thanks for reading. xx

No comments :

Post a Comment