I’ve had this blog for over 5 years. Â I’ve had a blog, in some form, for 15.
And I struggle.
That’s why weeks or months go by without a blog post. Â I don’t know what to write about consistently.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
The real issue is that I don’t write from a real place. Â Don’t get me wrong. Â I don’t lie about anything. Anything I’ve shared here is 100% true.
But I don’t usually talk about what I struggle with. Â I suppose I wasn’t at the place where I could just lay everything on the line. I worry about what people will think, even though I will tell you that I don’t care what people think. I worry about how what I say will affect my family. Â Real life people know about this blog, and I didn’t want people whispering about me and mine.
So I kept it safe.
So nobody knows that my husband’s health is way worse than I ever say. Â He’s not on his death-bed. Â If you met him, you’d never know he has so many things wrong with him. Â If you’ve been reading for the past few years, you know he had a stroke in 2012. Â You don’t know that he has Congestive Heart Failure, Chronic Kidney Disease, and a host of issues that go along with it.
I never write about the struggles I’ve had being a stepmother. I don’t tell you about the blended family problems that we face. Â I refuse to write about how dire our financial situation is. I’m not just robbing Peter to pay Paul; sometimes Â neither Peter or Paul get paid so that I can keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. You don’t know the frustration I feel that my husband can’t get a job due to his limitations, and I can’t work a second job because I’d probably kill myself doing it. I would NEVER tell you that I hate that I can’t go shopping for myself or my family for things that we like because I can barely afford the things that we need.
Â I never say that I’m stressed out all the time, or that my brain never shuts off from worrying about things.
I don’t talk about how I’m an introvert who rarely gets time to herself and that I feel like I might snap on somebody a lot of the time. Â I don’t share that I’m always exhausted and I feel like a need a whole month ALL BY MYSELF. Â NO kids, no hubby, no nothing.
I don’t share that I feel like I’m developing an ulcer.
I don’t talk about how I feel like I have no purpose. Â My job is just that: a job. Â But I know God has blessed me with talents and abilities that I could be using to help others and glorify Him. Â I just don’t have the time or the energy. I don’t know how to get paid doing those things.
Nope. I never talk about any of that. Because I don’t talk about what’s really going on, it’s difficult to talk about other things. Â And now I’m asking myself why? Â Does it really matter what anybody thinks about my life.
NO. Â It doesn’t matter. Â
Opinions are plentiful and meaningless.
But me getting things out? Â Not bottling it up?
I feel better already!