On eating worms…


I’m so unsure about this space at the moment.

I feel like I’m on a bridge to nowhere.

It’s hard to share my life here, as if my world, my privacy, my thoughts are all there to be picked over.

But with the hard comes the ridiculously easy. The too easy.

Because it is very easy to share too much. To share too little.

To give people an idea of who and what you are, without them really knowing you.

And then to get upset when people you thought understood you really don’t.

How can they understand you when you don’t show them all of you?

How can they understand you when you don’t understand yourself?

There is so much talking about blogging. Mummy blogging in particular.

How we get freebies, and paid to write.

How we sell out, bitch, have rifts in our community.

How we set ourselves apart. How we are inclusive. How we are supportive. How we rip one another’s throats out.

How we exploit our children for the sake of a packet of free biscuits.

I read this post by Kerri Sackville today.

If you are confused, interested or feel some kind of animosity towards mummy bloggers (including me) I suggest you read it.

Kerri is the kind of blogger I wish I could be.

She has the career that I would hope to come out of blogging for myself.

If I could ever move beyond this point I am at now.

What she says is true. All of it.

We are people. Humans. Mothers, fathers, photographers, sisters, daughters, wives.

Everything I share on this blog must meet a criteria I have set for myself.

I would never intentionally publish anything I thought might hurt someone’s feelings.

Something that hurts someone’s feelings is different to something people disagree with, though.

I most certainly do have a filter and I most certainly use it. Often.

It’s why this post has been sitting in the back canals of my brain, waiting for the thoughts to form properly in a way that won’t hurt anyone, inspire sympathy and hopefully not instigate any kind of outpouring.

I don’t want help. I don’t want sympathy and I most certainly don’t want smoke blown up my ass.

Right now, inexplicably, I feel that this is not the space to share as openly as I have in the past.

Funny anecdotes, yes.

My thoughts and feelings on parenting, current events, friendships, relationships, my children, no.

It all feels off limits.

Perhaps it’s that Pal is becoming more social media savvy. He reads this blog whenever I post and openly shares his feelings on what should and shouldn’t be here. As is his right and as I have always encouraged him to do.

Perhaps it’s that I feel that my outbox isn’t sending the message through. That things are being read in a way I didn’t anticipate. The message is not being received.

Sometimes that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s bad.

The unpredictability of an audience reaction can be somewhat debilitating.

I’ve considered taking a break. A hiatus.

But I know me, and I know that should I stop, should I take a holiday from this space that isn’t spent working on it, improving it – I will not come back.

Not because I don’t love writing. Not because I don’t love my readers – not that I am conceited enough to believe that my absence would be painful for anyone.

But because at some point, something’s gotta give.

And right now I run this blog and it’s Facebook page which both feel like they are slowly shrivelling – despite numbers to the contrary.

It feels like I’ve lost “it”, whatever “it” is.

I study, and I am almost hilariously always behind.

I am trying to be a better parent.

I am trying to be a better housewife.

And right now, trying to be a better blogger seems much harder than the rest of all of that.

I don’t have the time to dedicate to reading numerous blogs a day.

Sometimes I only manage to read one or two, and they aren’t even my favourites – but those that have been shared in my Facebook feed in the five minutes I have before someone realises I am not feeding them, changing them or that I have an item of technology in my possession and they want it for their own amusement.

Perhaps I feel as if I am off eating worms while all the other children are off playing and engaging and loving on one another.

But that’s me distancing myself and not vice versa.

I know how this is going to present.

“Oh, here we go, another blogger depressed by stagnant numbers and lack of community feeling. Let’s all tell her nice things so she’ll shut up and stop threatening to stop.”

Because I am not threatening to stop.

I think I’m promising to do better, whilst keeping more for me. For us.

Because this family I have, that allows me to share our life?

They are amazing. They are kind. They are the reason this blog even exists.

Without them there is nothing to share.

So here’s the deal.

I’ll keep blogging, you keep reading, my family will keep providing me with material and we’ll all just trundle on happily.

I’m not quite sure where this space is going, but let’s go there together.