By Contributor Kim Saunders (@captainco.tasmania)
It's been a while since I've written something. Well, no. That's a lie. I've written plenty. But not 'blogged'. Nothing worthy of a sufficient read. Just a few short rants. I have tried. I've started plenty. I've half-written plenty. I've finished plenty. I've read. Re-read. Re-re-read. Doubted. Edited. Edited. Re-written. Deleted.
I'm not a natural writer. Heck no. I'm in awe of those who are. Those who always have passion. Who always have great ideas. Who write so well. Who stand by their convictions.
I second guess errrythang. I doubt every topic. I start far too many sentences with And. Or But. I use too many dots.... instead of the simple correct comma. I use far-too-many-dashes-in-long-winded-sentences. I spell words the way I say them. Like errythang. And sahh. Grammatically, I'm a mess. Even my spell check gets confused. I'm a proofreader's worse nightmare.
I've shied away from some taboo topics. I don't want to ruffle feathers. I don't like conflict. I sometimes get overwhelmed and steamrolled by other people's opinions.
I'm also a private-public-over-sharer. I like to be private but at the same time am very public with loaaads of things. And a total over sharer. Need I remind you... Botox. Chin hairs. Telling the world how much I weigh. Sheesh. It's like I have honest-don't-share-too-much Tourette's.
I'm also well aware that my family and friends read what I write. Sometimes. Not all the time. I don't want to hurt their feelings. Or make them feel like what I'm saying is directed at them. And... some things I hide from my family. Like my real struggle with two babes. The PND (post natal depression). The tears. The tough days. The I-feel-helpless-trapped-alone moments.
Plus I live in Launceston, a very small town. After my Botox admission... I felt like every single person I spoke to didn't hear a word I said and just looked at my forehead. After my PND Instagram post, I felt like everyone looked at me with pity. Even like some people thought I was being silly and should just "harden up". After my How-Much-I-Weigh Post... I felt like everyone looked at my ass and thought "Dang... She is a roundy-too-many-poundy". And not in a good way. Crazy. As if. As if people even know who I am. And do people really care. Sheesh. Maybe. But sheesh.
With two under two - technically two under twenty months - I feel like my whole world has been flipped upside down. Complete struggle town. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I doubt myself daily. I second guess everything. I've totally lost my mojo. Making. Writing. Socialising. I've lost a little of me. Actually. I've lost a lot.
I need stand my ground.
I need to stand by my convictions.
I need to stand by my Botox.
I need to be honest.
I need to be real.
I need to get 'me' back.
I need to be proud.
Maybe not so loud.
So Hi Mum.
Things may get a little bumpy.
I'm fighting the funk.
2016. Let's do this.