It's been a month since I posted the emotional look into my post-surgery life and it has been amazing. Not, amazing because all my problems went away, but amazing in the fact that I have been approached by so many of you who read it. I got personal messages, hugs, tears, and praise beyond belief. Thank you guys, thank you.
I noticed that everyone who approached me called me strong and brave. Thank you. Thank you so much. I do know that I have the amazing power to be strong and brave. I don't always remember that, but deep down, I do know it. And I do want to clarify the reason I wrote the post... I honestly wasn't even thinking about me and what I was doing. I wrote it because prior to it, people would approach me and say things like, "You're doing so amazing! I'm so horrible at losing weight" or "Ugh, I am just doing awful at this, and you're doing so great! You're amazing!". And you know what? I immediately thought of how I feel when those mom's (you know those kind) who post pictures of themselves with their kids all in matching pajamas on a Saturday morning eating cookies and watching movies or making crafts and everyone is smiling and happy at noon. And my child is SCREAMING and throwing tantrums and saying "YOU BE QUIET, MOMMY!" And I'm like, wow. I'm failing at motherhood. These women have figured this out with their perfect little people, and my child was awoken by the devil, himself this morning. And by noon it's taking everything in me to not to leave him on the neighbor's doorstep. And I suddenly got a rush of guilt thinking, "Am I making other people feel like failures?" And I never ever want to make anyone feel less than. So I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. Also, if you're a mom like that, I know you don't mean to make anyone feel like that either. I'm fully, 100% aware that it is my wacky brain that thinks that way! Go about your happy life, truly. Enjoy those moments and cherish them. I have them too. I've been known to post a picture of my child happily baking cookies ... right before he spits on one of them. I'll spare you a picture of that part though. You're welcome.
You are all amazing men and women. Failure is human, and trying again and again is brave and strong.
ON ANOTHER NOTE:
I finally finally finally have my own space in this house. Hubs has the garage, the yard, the giant shed... the bathroom? I don't know, men spend a lot of time in there... Little Boy has his room AND a playroom. And I had no where set up for me. (don't say the kitchen, you jerks) What was supposed to be my office/craft area/writing space has been filled with boxes and no desk until a few days ago.
I finally got a desk. I finally set up my office. I finally have my own space. And let me tell you, the creativity is flowing. If you know something about me, let it be known that I have dreamed of writing a book for as long as I can remember. As a child, I used to fill notebook upon notebook of short stories, journals, poems, crap. (I don't have any of them. ANY OF THEM. Tragic, I know.) As an adult I've longed to be brave enough to write a collection of essays as a memoir of my adult life. Stories of finding love (that was a hot mess), infertility, adoption and so forth. Funny and tragic and therapeutic. Oh how I long for that. And where I was blaming the lack of actually doing that on not having a creative space, I know that deep down it's because I'm terrified of rejection. I haven't mastered bravery in that area. You see, I can bare all, no problem, on a blog. But publishers? Actual readers? That's scary. But anyways, I feel the fire burning. I'll do it you guys. I'll do it and it'll be written right here:
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| hopefully with a more comfortable chair |
Also,
Possible book name: Hot Mess: How I haven't murdered everyone I know and eaten all the Blue Bell ice cream in Texas on a Tuesday night.
No?
Fine, I'll work on it.
<3 Tabitha
