I have a confession to make.
I care what y’all think.
(and now I’m not so secretly wondering what all y’all think of this born and raised California girl using the phrases “y’all” and “all y’all”.)
Anyhoo… I care. I care so much that when I think I’m sucking at life, I stop writing.
But here’s the thing… I suck at life often. I just don’t get it “right”. I yell at my kids and dogs. I question my sanity. I screw up my priorities. I make a lousy meal. I do something stupid (like picking up random furniture on the side of the road) and end up hurting myself to the point of incapacity. I dream of the future when the constant complaining/whining/begging/fighting/etc. is a thing of the past (“it’s a phase, right?” spills from my lips frequently).
But you know what? I sort of think you might suck at life, too. And really, isn’t that what connections are made of? All of our little (or big) screw ups reminding us that we are human; reminding us we are not alone, even though when we are sucking at life, we feel like we’re falling into the abyss of loneliness.
So I realized, If I waited until I stopped sucking at life, the things I’d write about would not actually be ALL of me. If there is one thing I aim to do, it’s to be REAL.
…not this perfect mom, who cooks a balanced meal every day (I don’t), but a REAL mom, who loses her mind and her manners on a regular basis.
Welp, I’m here to tell you, I suck at life. I’m just trying to not feel so alone while I do it and pray that I can suck less often.
Who’s with me?