I share a lot about my life.
Usually it doesn’t bother me at all. Mostly I enjoy feeling like I’m letting people get to know the real me–even the ugly bits.
Sometimes I pause and wonder what it’s like on the other side, for you, the wonderful people who read my never ending ramblings.
I wonder sometimes how people “see” me… particularly those whom I interact with in real life. You know that I try to be open and honest about what I call the “good, the bad and the ugly” parts of my life. I talk a lot about my thoughts and the things I’m struggling with.
I think that’s important. I think that so much of what we see on social media is staged or fake, and it’s important to also show the “real”.
…but sometimes I worry that in all my sharing I just come across as an anxious wreck who has a lot of struggles.
I mean… I kind of am, BUT, I promise that’s not *all* that I am.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I guess sometimes I just wonder about what it’s like to get to know me through this platform. How what I share about myself is interpreted. What YOU see.
In any case, I’m grateful you’re here. That you stay. That you share pieces of your lives with me in your comments and messages. Some of you are long haulers and have been here since my OG blog days. I’ve been doing this for 15 years now.
Fifteen years! That’s a long time.
It also means some of you have been reading for almost that long. You’ve seen me through my undergrad, teachers college and my never ending quest to find my permanent teaching position here in Ontario.
Some of you have followed me through the births of my children. My struggles with post partum anxiety. My miscarriage.
You’ve seen me through more body changes than I can count as I’ve gone through the hardships of pregnancies or injuries, followed by the high seasons of running and yoga. My weight has yo-yoed up and down, as has the confidence I have in my body.
I’m a little bit all over the place. Is that part of my charm? Sometimes I wonder if I’m more like a train wreck you just can’t look away from.
I think maybe I feel more aware of it right now as I’m living in a new city, and for the first time in a decade it feels a bit like I’m starting over. I’m meeting new people. People who haven’t known my story for fifteen years, and only see the now.
I guess I wonder sometimes, is it enough? Is it too much?
Translate that into: Am I enough? Am I too much?
Anyway. I’m sitting in a dark, quiet room rocking my sweet W and what began as a Thursday night question to ponder turned into something else.
This blogging thing is just weird sometimes… but thanks for staying despite my weirdness.