Why did I write that? Why did I make myself vulnerable like that? What was I thinking?
Now there are people who read this blog, who I sort of know, but not really, thinking - 'hey -that chick's nuts.' Or possibly, 'Hey- there goes the queen of overshare!,' which, though likely true at various junctures, isn't something I necessarily want everyone in the whole world to know. I generally like to present a personae that reads, 'reasonably together,' however real that is (or isn't). I feel a bit like I forgot to wear pants to school and I'm standing there in my underwear, exposed (and possibly wishing I'd thought to wear cuter underwear).
So what the fuck was I thinking? Honestly - I'm not sure I was thinking. Feeling, most definitely, but thinking maybe not so much.
Am I sorry I wrote it? Not sure yet.
Maybe vulnerability on my part, however awkward it feels, will other folks feel less like fuck-ups. Maybe they can look at me and think, 'sure I can't keep the house clean, but that chick can't keep her house clean AND she can't make it through the day without crying in front of her kids. I"m not doing too bad.' Or maybe my vulnerability allows others who know exactly what I'm talking about, to feel less alone. Like the five brave and lovely commenters from yesterday who added their own voices, experience, encouragment. (and thank you - you definitely made me feel less alone.) Maybe I need to let go of the over-achiever bit, and just admit I'm a bit of a fuck-up sometimes, just like everyone else.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Whatever the outcome - I can't unsay it. Cards, meet table. Let's see what kind of hand I've got.