Sometimes I get:

Frustrated at always being on a budget

Disgusted with my wardrobe

Jealous of people who can travel anywhere, anytime, free from obligations, money worries, or any other constraint

Annoyed that my house is never as clean as I’d like it to be

Angry that I had a miscarriage and even angrier that it’s so damn hard for me to get pregnant

Overwhelmed at all the adulting I need to do every day

Tired of making choices and decisions

Hangry

Sad about past hurts and angry at how they’ve changed me

Irked with myself for not having enough hustle and discipline

Wistful for all the books I’ll never get around to reading and the places I’ll never get around to visiting no matter how hard I try

Disappointed with myself

Unnecessarily irritated by bad grammar, poor manners, and terrible driving

Caught up in comparing myself to other people

Embarrassed to have people in my home

Homesick for New York even though it’s been almost 20 years since I lived there

Lonely

Discouraged with blogging and writing

Irrationally enraged at small things like chipped nail polish, zippers that won’t close properly, stains that appear on my clothes after they’ve gone through the wash, and pens with light ink

Distracted from what’s important

I don’t deny myself feeling any of these. I think it’s normal to feel any or all of these at some point and if you say you don’t ever feel any of them, or something not so wonderful that’s not on the list, I don’t know that I believe you. No one feels 100% happy and perfect all the time. If you do, you need to share your secrets. Honestly. You can make 80 billion dollars off of that.

It’s important to me to own my emotions, whatever they might be, and deal with them. And after I deal with them, it makes me realize that my life isn’t really that bad and I get over myself and move on (except being appalled by poor grammar, bad manners, and terrible driving. And laundry stains. Seriously. Why are stains appearing on my clothes after they’ve been washed?)

Because while I’m spending time and energy focusing on all the things that are wrong, it’s time and energy I’m taking away from focusing on what’s right. 

 

 

Save

I hadn’t planned on writing this post today but after my conversation during a 2+ hour lunch with Steph yesterday, I decided it’s necessary. It might get convoluted and circular, and I apologize in advance for that.

I am not okay.

In fact, I am the exact opposite of okay. I’m a disaster. A mess.

I have unpaid bills. My house is decidedly less than clean. I have errands to run, emails to answer, calls to make, jobs to apply for, a gray streak in my hair I need to dye, blogs I need to catch up on, and plans that I desperately want to cancel yet I do none of it. I want to smile and mean it, laugh and feel better, and understand that it is okay to ask for help. But it takes all my strength to get out of bed and brush my teeth each morning and there’s not much left over for anything else. I sleep like shit when I actually do fall asleep. I have no motivation to do anything except sit on the couch and play endless games of Rummikub on my iPad or read books. I’m still grieving my miscarriage. I’m still unemployed. My depression is at an all time high (low?).

I feel like an epic failure.

I tell you all this not for sympathy or pity or anything other than I want to share the fact that, despite the humor you might read in a post or a cute picture you might see on Instagram, there’s more going on behind the scenes. My life is not a beautiful, staged on a white background array of sunshine and rainbows. My life, at times, is ugly and awful and not at all enviable. And I tell you that because I know that someone, somewhere, feels like she (or he) is the only one with ugliness in her life. And I want that person to know she’s not.

We all have darkness. We all have moments when everything feels like it’s falling apart and will never be put back together. We all have moments of shame and sadness and messiness and absolute wretchedness.

Bloggers don’t often do a good job of conveying that, although some are spectacular at it (think The Bloggess, Allie Brosh, and a couple of others I follow with quasi-regularity). But there’s more who hide the ugly than share. And I think that needs to stop. Bloggers have a reach that other people don’t, and you never know how your words can affect someone. Which is why, bloggers (and nonbloggers), I’m encouraging you to share your ugly. Whether it’s a picture or post or tweet or whatever, share something with your readers that isn’t shiny and perfect. I’m not talking a picture of you sweaty after a 10 mile run or epic leg day at the gym. No one looks good after that. I’m talking about showing about a failure in the kitchen. A stain on the rug that you hide with a piece of furniture. A huge zit you cover up with makeup. Something, anything that strips away, even for one small minute, any delusions of perfection your readers and followers may see.

Our words and images are powerful. We never know who we’re reaching or who’s touched or impacted by what we say. It’s a hard thing, reading blogs and only ever seeing perfection. If that’s what people are using as a basis for comparison, it’s an impossible standard to achieve and can do more harm than good.

So tell your story.

Divulge your scars.

Discuss your battles.

Show your ugly.

 

 

Save