At the time, and months after writing these things, I didn't feel at all strange about it. Then I thought about who might have access to my thoughts and feelings and it made me paranoid. I've opened myself up to being hurt, I told myself and endeavoured
to have a serious gut-out of the personal posts, to root out anything I wouldn't be happy to talk about in a casual conversation. Then I realised it was okay to share what I have shared, that it was okay if someone wanted to use that for bad because surely that said more about them than me, right? But it's not just that. It's the exposure. You feel things, you think things and you don't need to speak them and until you speak them no one knows what you think or feel. Sometimes that's a wonderful feeling and sometimes it's a great protection. Sometimes admitting your faults leaves you feeling more vulnerable and worse off than before. Now, with this in mind I thought about the things I'd shared on here and deleted the posts where it was appropriate but now I feel this way about everything I share. How much is too much?Some days I want to come on here and delete everything because I am growing so tired of the over sharing world of blogging, of social networking, of everything. I am sick of reading rants about 'problems' that aren't really problems, sick of seeing someone update their wardrobe every single week and sick of feeling like I'm always falling short in some way. I haven't had a professional hair cut since 2008 (I've cut my hair to save money), I 'top up' my wardrobe buying the odd top or pair of jeans or relying on gifts from people to cover it, my eyebrows can often be neglected and I constantly feel different to everyone, because I am. And not just because of the way I look.
I sometimes feel silently judged by no one in particular. I believe I am my own worst critic because the conversations I have with myself are quite harsh. You should never have had a child, what were you thinking? Are you mad? With your illness? You'll never be like other mothers, you'll never come close to the type of mother you had, or be the type of mother you want to be. Now maybe you have these same thoughts/conversations with yourself but these constant self criticisms make me want to shut down completely. To close in on myself. To shut everyone out and alienate myself from normal life because I will never be normal, or have a slice of normal. And when I read other blogs they are either good liars or that's what normal is. That's what I should be. Or is it?
And it's the same on social networking sites, or speaking to a lot of other mothers who seem so smart and capable - beyond any lengths I will reach within my physical grasp - I just feel swamped in life and the need for putting the barriers comes, the craving for privacy and keeping my thoughts to myself sweeps in. Some days I beg for nap time to come quickly and if nap time doesn't happen then I feel like I could cry. Some days I wish they made sleeping tablets for toddlers or there was an 'off' button. Some days I wish I was lazy, a sponge who always soaked up the help of others, so I could just have silence for a few minutes. Some days I have to escape to another room, away from the building feelings of frustration that boil up in a moment of a toddler doing something very disgusting or annoying. Some days are great, but some are really, really not great. Some days I can't believe the things that I say or do. Some days I really have to conjure up images of a tiny little baby, reminding myself he needs me just as much as he did then now just so I can get through that moment or day. Some days I wish I wasn't a perfectionist because then I wouldn't always have to be go, go, go with Roman or thinking of the next task or conversation we could/should be having. Some days I think about full time education, outside of the home. And some days I want to be the toddler.