Dear Diary

30 Days

There is no easy way to say this.  I honestly don’t even know if I want to say this.  I have been thinking and overanalyzing what I should and should not write about on this blog for months.  Should I be something that I am not?  Should I push myself to hashtag this and hashtag that?  Should I focus on marketing and influencing and all these foreign things that blogging has become?  The internal struggle triggered my recent super bitch fest post and then I thought NO I can’t say all those things, I can’t trash all of these women it’s just not right.  I am not here to put other people down.  I might not be doing a great job of raising people up but I’m really not trying to hurt anyone in my process. My process.  What does that even mean?  Does anyone on the planet even blog like this anymore?  I honestly thought NO until this morning when I remembered, all I had to do was read her about page and it hit me like a ton of bricks, Heather B. Armstrong is apparently my muse.  Strangely enough, we both started blogging over a decade ago, back when people actually wrote about their feelings, I can’t help but make the connection. This to me says, if she can still be writing from this place of truth and honestly, if she can talk about her kids while mixing in jokes about marijuana with a healthy dose of fuck this and ass that then, why can’t I?  I mean ok- so I obviously fucked my life up by not sticking to one handle since the beginning of time like she did.  Ergo I don’t have the following or the clout to be acting that way but you know what, fuck it. I’m at this place in my life right now where honestly, if I don’t find a way to heal myself I am going to loose everything.  Because my head is just that fucked up.  I am just that lost.  Not all the time.  Not every waking moment of my life.  I am certainly no longer the train wreck I was earlier this year but not I am just stuck in this strange limbo period where I feel like anything and nothing are possible at the very same time. I have insomnia.  I apparently have some “special” form of menstruation that causes me to go into fits of uncontrollable rage once a month.  I am also pretty sure I spent the first year+ of my son’s life unknowingly suffering from postpartum depression.  My life has had more ups and downs than I can possibly count on two hands.  I find myself feeling lost, friendless and alone.  I question if I can even be “fixed” or if my life has just been so fucked up to date that my personality has somehow formed from a mashup of all my unresolved issues. And because we cannot afford a therapist and even if …READ MORE

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