The internet is a wonderful and zany place. I started blogging for myself, for enjoyment, it is therapeutic and I get to indulge my long slumbering creative side. I have also found it touches my heart that people give a crap, that they like what I say and the clumsy, attemptingly witty way in which I say it.
I have also found blogging is like parenting in the way it can give you conflicting feelings.
Being a mum to me is like sunshine, warm and all consuming. I love being a parent and yet the experience is coloured with feelings of being not good enou gh, like I am trekking Everest without a Sherpa or shoes.
Similarly, this week I have had my first taste of blogger guilt…sometimes these thoughts just creep up on us. I want to be more social, to read more blogs, comment more, join more linky’s and get my Twitter on. I was so luckily to stumble into a tribe of women who are so generous with their time, advice and kindness; the ideals and passion in the group are amazing, and m otivating. I want to support them and give as much back as they give me…but I work and have a four year old which does rather upset my relationship with WordPress. I also have a partner that doesn’t always appreciate me tap tapping awa y on my laptop in the maybe 18 minutes each day we have together. Like many parents I juggle a lot of balls.
Some days I also just don’t have the words, some days I am totally exhausted, some days I just don’t have the time.
I also don’t know if my life is interesting enough to post daily and thinking about blog topics gives me brain stitch. The blogging prowess of pro-bloggers is staggering and comparing my grammatically sketchy musings with theirs makes me feel like the awkward, bespeckled girl at school again. This I know is utter lunacy as I am new and other bloggers have put in so much sweat, font and tears. They are also ridiculously lovely people. Like Christmas lovely and always willing to graciously answer questions and share knowledge.
Whilst I do not ‘need’ the Twitterverse and blogging in my life, like a social media fanatic, I do like it. In fact I would even tentatively say that I love it. Quietly, like saying it to your boyfriend on a second date when you barely even know them. I love reading other people’s posts, I love being reduced to high pitched chortles at Tweets and admire the confidence of other bloggers that share their inner most thoughts and feelings. Blogs are a privilege to read. I find it is sometimes like reaching out and holding someone’s hand.
The blogger community makes me feel more content and reassured as a mummy, less alone. I always tell myself there is no such thing as a perfect parent and must consider that there is also no such thing as a perfect blogger.
So I apologise that whilst I am finding my blogger feet I may be sometimes quiet and not yet consistent. I will endeavour to retweet, to give shout outs, to figure out hashtags, to share content and create worthy content of my own. The responsibility of feeling bad is my own.
I will be kinder to myself, embrace my limits. I don’t have to be great at everything. No one is.
If you like this post check out: Why I can’t rest when I am ill. Why I need to. Parents are not bulletproof.