Favorite thing about blogging

There are many blogs on the internet. Way too many than you could possibly read in one single day. And this is one of the reason why I was nervous about starting my own blog. Would anyone read it? Would anyone care about what I had to say? But I took the jump. I started less than a year ago. October-ish to be exact. And in that small time frame….I’ve gained over 200 followers and I am completely baffled how so many of you actually care about what I say. Not that it is a bad thing. What I mean is that I am baffled that I actually have followers. I am the type of person who would never think that anyone would care about what I have to say.

Which is one of the things that I love about blogging. I can say what I want. I can pour my heart out about my situations about my life. About my mental illness. I can get my emotions out there in a format that is available for anyone who wants to read. I am apart of the process to getting mental illness spoken about without any stigma. I know we still have a long way to go. But I am proud to be one of those who actually say’s ‘screw what they say, I am going to put it out there anyway’. Which if you know me…..is a very scary thing for me to do.

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I love that, although I know I should, I don’t have to write here like I am writing a college  paper. I know that if I want to be taken more seriously, I should write better. But here at my blog I can just type what I think and even though it is not written in a professional manner…..It is there.

I love that I have followers who are more than just followers. Every time one of you comments saying things like ‘I completely understand’ or ‘I’ve been there’ etc…. you all have been more than just my followers. You have been a friend. A kind and understanding friend. It truly means a lot to me since I grew up in a small town where if you had a mental illness, you were cast aside.

I love that I can write about everything that is going on in my life. I love that I can share my feelings with the world without being made to feel that I am being over dramatic. Or just too emotional.

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So if you are one the fence about wanting to start a blog. Just know that it can be very rewarding. It can be an emotional escape for you. You may even find people out there who feel the same exact way that you do. It is worth a try. Even if you don’t become one of those successful bloggers who makes a substantial living off blogging….it is still worth the try. It allows you to express yourself.

How you see yourself

 

Maya Angelo provided us with a vast amount of great words. I don’t think I have heard anything from her that didn’t resonate on a deeper level. I mean this woman is brilliant. I love her. I remember reading ‘I know why the caged bird sings’ in middle school and thinking this….this is a woman who uses her words in such an elegant way. I was captivated.

However, this quote. This quote is so powerful. And so meaningful. yet it is something that can be so hard for someone like me.

You see…. My anxiety and depression turns what should be a nice self esteem into the worst possible form of hatred possible. I look in the mirror and see my gobble neck. My double chin. My fat cheeks. My messed up smile. My cellulite thighs and butt. The massive amount of fat that lies on my thighs and butt. My jiggly belly. My scratchy not female voice. My weird toes. The way I don’t like having my toe nails unpolished if I am wearing flip flops and the way that all of this has made me unable to actually take the time to paint my toes….

 

Being a mom…. makes these thoughts even worse.  Why? well because I know if I walk around my house saying how ugly I am or how fat I am or how much weight I need to lose to be normal in society, My little girls are going to hear it. And do I really want them to hear me and think this is how we’re supposed to think of ourselves??? No. I don’t. I want them to look in the mirror and be proud of the way the look both inside and out. I don’t want them to see me nit picking everything I hate about myself and decide it is okay to copy it. Because it is not. I grew up in the 90’s before we had the plus size being ok. Every where you looked. The perfect girl was tall, stick thin and blonde. While I on the other hand was never going to be tall was never stick thin, I have always been a little plump no matter how much exercise I got and it wasn’t eating too much because I was poor….one time we only had potatoes to  eat. Now I was blonde but not beach blonde like all the models. No I was what my mom called dish water blonde. That kind of color that isn’t blonde but isn’t brown. That in between color. I never had a face where my cheek bones shined thru or waist so small, legs so skinny. I was never what the magazines portrayed as pretty.

So when the first plus size started getting attention I was like YESSS. But that still didn’t make me feel any better about myself.

It is a long journey. I am still trying to like myself. I need to lose the baby weight. But I am taking it one day at a time. It keeps fluctuating which is frustrating and depressing. I am still 60 pounds away from my pre kid weight. I mean when I was in high school weight. But I also know that for some people losing weight after the first kid is easier than after the second kid. So I got that struggle going on.

But the one thing I refuse to do….. Is speak all these insecurities in front of my girls. Yes, momma might not like the weight or the way her body looks. But I would never want my kids to think that is normal. It is something that is a constant struggle for me. But I don’t want to pass that struggle on to my kids.

Hiding my emotions

Have you ever had someone in your life that was always in competition with you?

If your night was bad, theirs was worse. If your back hurts, their entire body hurts.

But if you’re depressed or your anxious, they didn’t understand. Or felt like you had no reason to be. Or, the worse is that they feel like your mental issues reflect them as a person.

Then there are the ones that get really uncomfortable when you talk about your mental illness. Because they don’t understand it. Or think you can simply pray it away. They think maybe you’re just making things up for attention.

Well, if you have been reading my blog these past few months… you should know…. I am not making things up. I am a champion. I am a warrior in a battle of my own mind.

But not everyone is so accepting. When you see someone you thought accepted you for everything you are and thought loved you enough to not be eh.

Yet they are the ones you can see physically getting uncomfortable.

This is where I feel like I have to hide away my impurities. My issues. My real self.

What is really sad is that I was going to make this a genearlized post. But when I started typing it….. I got this one person in my head.

The person who says they’ve been there with me my entire life. But when I try to talk about the shitty shit that happened to me…. They say I am lying.

Like when I was 5….my brother made me…not ask… made me pretend to be sick so that my mom would ask him to stay home with me. But my mom was going to my grandma’s and I really loved going to my grandmas…. but she said I couldn’t go because I was sick.

And I wanted to tell her I was lying. That my brother made me lie. And that’s when he punched me. in the eye. My first black eye was when I was 5. He told my mom that I was running tripped and hit the coffee table and I was too scared to tell her the truth. That is sad. But if you ask this person… they’ll say I made it up. Or if it really happened..why didn’t I say anything. I WAS 5!!!!

If you have been reading you know my dad passed away. According to this specific person… I didn’t lose my dad.My brother did because he knew him more than I did. They would ask how my brother was coping. How did my brother feel about it. My brother hated my dad. Like a physical hate. My other brother was inpartial. I on the other hand tried to call my dad everytime I got the chance. I tried to see him. I went down there on vacation with a friend of mine almost 9 years ago. It was right after Fathers Day and about 3 weeks before my dads birthday. We were there a week. I really wanted to see my dad. I always wanted him to want to see me. To explain why he was such an asshat. To try to be in our life. But he blew me off 3 times that entire week. But I didn’t lose my dad.

I have so many other examples. Like so many other examples. And this is why I just don’t go around certain people. Because there is no reason that I, a grown ass person, should have to hide my mental illness, my feelings and who I am to make someone else comfortable. And that is how I always felt. Like I had to pretend to be this little perfect person who said ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’ and never ever had anything wrong with me. I felt like they wanted me to treat them as if they were my parent. and treat them the same way as I treat my mom.

Uhm, my mom is special. OKAY. I will not treat any other person as if they’re my mom.

I shouldn’t have to change the way I am now because they liked the submissve person I was.

Thats the thing. I gave birth to my first child almost 7 years ago. And there was just so much to that. My daughter was a blessing. Yes she caused my anxiety to increase because I was responsible for a whole new human. But she also allowed me to discover my inner ‘bitch’.

Before I would cower down. Hide things so that others around me would feel comfortable. I would never ever talk about my anxiety disorder to anyone but maybe 3 people including my mom. But the day my daughter was born it was like something was born inside me. I felt like I am an adult. I am a mother. And I don’t have to change who I am or bow down for anyone. I no longer follow the crowd. (actually I hate crowds, too many people)

If any of you reading this experience something similar to this, please know. You do not have to make someone else comfortable. you do not have to deny your feelings so that everyone else is comfortable. If they cannot accept the way you feel, if they cannot acknowledge that someone might have feelings that differ from theirs, then maybe they are not meant to be in your life.

And as always, which I probably don’t say enough, I am so very thankful for every single follower. I encourage comments and I will try my hardest to respond.