Dear Husband,
I’m sorry I’m feeling depressed today. I know it’s hard for you to come home from work and understand why. I don’t mean to expose it so much because I know you don’t understand.
I’m sorry I yell when you ask what’s wrong. I don’t know how to word what I feel sometimes. It’s not as black and white as you’d like it to be. It’s grey. It’s so grey. Read more
I completely bombed my essay.
You know, I knew I would. It wasn’t good. It’s my first one and I just didn’t ‘get it’. I also have a thousand and one excuses about why I failed, some valid, some a bit of a stretch, but it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, I did fail.
But it’s totally okay because it was the submission of the fist draft so I get another shot at sucking! Yaaaay #sarcasm.
Wow, well that was unexpected.
When I hit upload on my blog post ‘We’re under attack‘ the other day I had no idea what it would turn into! It seemed that the reply threads consisted of twenty-odd positive, supportive comments and then one that suggested my children were monsters. Twenty more ‘I feel you!’ comments, and one accusing me of shrugging my children playing up as ‘boys will be boys’ (I have never, and I will never). Another twenty comments sending love, and one telling me that my children targeted the little girl and had planned an attack on her – puh-lease.
I just refuse to believe that children are nasty little schemers with a plan for world domination and pulling peoples hair. Perhaps I’m naive. Either way, I know my children, and they definitely don’t have a bunker full of targets photos and playground blueprints.
This morning was the first childcare day of the year for Biggestlittle. We walked in at the same time as the staff who organises placements and she said hi and asked where the other two boys were. I reminded her that they only come on Mondays.
The glorious words that escaped her mouth changed everything. She said that I should bring them in because it was quiet and they missed out coming on Monday due to the public holiday!
This past week I have finally stopped procrastinating.
Instead of letting my anxiety rule when I think ‘It is too hard, don’t bother, people will just laugh, you can’t do it’ I’ve decided to think ‘Who cares? You’ve got this!’
Who cares if people laugh when I rock up to the gym with my thunder thighs and bubble butt? Isn’t that what the gym was originally created for? I mean waaaay back. Back when they were about losing weight and getting fit, and not about looking the part, or having a like-worthy status update.
There are three things that have put me in the fitness frame of mind. In no particular order they are:
Someone asked the question today ‘What are your thoughts on people who get weight loss surgery?‘
The replies were mostly supportive, with a couple that were less so. I couldn’t go past this comment from a lovely lady (who gave me her permission to share this).
It is perinatal depression and anxiety awareness week. #bePNDaware
If you’re new to my blog you won’t need to look far to see that I’ve been touched by this beast. If you’re a regular around here then you’re probably sick of hearing about it. #sorrynotsorry I’m a huge believer in spreading awareness about this topic and sharing my personal fight is the best way for me to do this.
When I was a young girl -I honestly couldn’t tell you how young- I remember hearing something come out of my mums mouth that would stay with me forever.
Mum and dad were having what they called ‘a disagreement’ – one of those stupid little arguments couples have over nothing. It was so insignificant that I don’t have the foggiest clue what it was about, but mum felt the need to turn on the sass and educate my dear father on something important.
She said “My father taught me a long time ago that every person in this world is entitled to an opinion. I am allowed to have my own opinion and you might not agree with it, but that’s too damn bad“. My mum is kind of a badass #sorrynotsorry
She was right. Everyone is entitled to their own thoughts, their own feelings, their own opinions. If we all sing the same note in the choir then we will never have harmony.
Sitting here in the debris of the ‘Mummy Blogger War’ as it was so called, it’s quite clear to me that the simple act of sharing an opinion is not actually so simple.
What wrong turn have we made to end up here? Are we all so concerned about showing loyalty that we’ve sacrificed our ability to show individuality? Are we too afraid of sharing our opinions for fear of backlash? Sadly, this is understandable. People are very quick to mistake differing opinions for a call to arms.
I watched as a woman got devoured by blind hate and ignorant attacks. And why did this happen? She shared her opinion. On her very own blog. She didn’t play an away game. No, she was home. And in they swarmed, stinking up the place with hypocrisy, and causing possible brain damage from reactive hard-handed face palms, with comments along the lines of ‘I don’t actually know what’s going on but I’ve got your back anyway’ .
It was like High-school. All the cool kids ganging up and beating on the slightly goofy kid that didn’t conform to the social norms. The one that dressed how they wanted to dress, the one that was proud of being smart, the one that the cool kids were secretly afraid of, because they knew that one day they’d be refilling the hotdogs at the local 7/11 while the ‘loser’ was wildly successful in life and love.
In fact it might have been worse. Grown women are brutal. They have no one to answer to but themselves. But just like a three year old who thinks he rules the roost -we need limits.
The key is respect. Every person in this world is entitled to an opinion. You don’t have to agree with it. You don’t have to like it. Hell, you don’t even have to take it in, but you do have to respect it as a basic human right.
One day I will tell my boys what my mother said, because I think it’s important. We cannot lose this. We cannot lose our diversity. We need to fight for our right to an opinion, and we need to support those who are being stifled.
I don’t need to think the same as everyone else. I don’t need to conform, and I’d rather not try.
I’d rather not be an unopinionated drone.
#idratherbeme
The joys of 3 boys 