Two months later…

14 Nov

Ah, so I was not very good at keeping up with my strict deadlines and M-W-F format, now was I?

In part, it’s because I’ve been pregnant (and continue to be) and not feeling well.  And by “not feeling well” I mean either puking or feeling like I’m just about to puke just about every day for the past couple of months.  So there’s that.  And the fact that I’m so incredibly tired.  Like I sleep 10+ hours at night, still need at least a short nap during the day, and go back to bed around 8pm.  I seriously freaked out at the idea that thought I was pregnant with twins for a while, but, no, just a single baby can make you this exhausted.  Maybe the baby has replaced all my blood with something heavier; say, Nyquil, for example.

Then, you know, there was that entire election thing.  Right?  Man, I was SUPER into that.  I mean, I had to miss weeks of my favorite shows with all those debates and crap.  That really cut into the time I was willing to stay awake at night.  Obviously.

Aaaand… well, here’s the main thing, actually:  Like I talked some about before, I don’t know what direction to take this blog.  Or even if I need a direction.  And I don’t know how personal to make it.  If you and I met in person, I’d have no trouble spilling my guts if I felt like you’d be okay with it.  (And, as I’m sure many can attest to, I’d probably cry all over you even if we had just met and maybe you weren’t so okay with it.)  I’ve lived life on the edge of crying for years now, so it’s easy to be vulnerable and not really give a shit about it.  Honestly.  I mean, okay, I probably care a little at the very least, but I’m comfortable putting a lot out there because I really think it’s obvious what a wreck I am.  Until recently, I thought the mangled way I felt on the inside was clearly visible from face; that you could just tell by looking at me that I was suicidal and not sure how to dig myself out of it; that I didn’t know what to believe about faith and God because I didn’t have faith in much; that I was still mad at my mom at a 20-something and not sure what that meant.  Couldn’t you just see it?  So what would the point be in trying to hide it?

But I know now that it’s not obvious.  And especially from your vantage point as the reader, it’s really not obvious.  I could write about how my shit smells like roses and how totally confident I am as a parent and wife and here’s all of my advice for you to follow in my perfectly sized footsteps.  But that’s not the kind of thing I would want to read.  I’d want to read something real.  But how real should you be?  Especially when your marriage is a little (or a lot) shaky.  Especially when you get pregnant and maybe don’t know how to deal with it.  Especially when things are just messy in your life approximately 89% of the time.  How, then, do I define being “real” but also being cognizant that this is the internet and everyone can see everything I say?

But I guess my response is F it.  I’m just going to try to do this thing, for whatever reason, and I’m just going to do it raw.  Maybe it’ll be too much and I’ll have to end up deleting things, but whatever.  Eventually I’ll have nice things to write about, so just keep holding on to that.


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