It is always interesting for me to see the readers of this blog emerge from the shadows of statistics on my "dashboard." I know nothing of blogging and my grammar and punctuation are off half the time. Partly because I don't care enough to remember the rules and partly because I feel like the rules fuck up my flow and people can hear my voice better when I do it my way. I drop commas where they don't belong because I just really really really like commas, I suppose.
I know enough to see how many people have "viewed" each post. The number is *usually* around the same with each post. I recently shared a post with photos of the baby I lost and it had much more views than my usual posts. I know that it's because people are naturally curious and don't often get to see what a 20 week old baby looks like outside the womb and that's ok with me.
The number of views is usually much much more than the amount of people who respond with feedback and since I don't have any official "followers," I know that the majority of you reading this right now are on my Facebook friends list. Actually, I know that about half of my friends list is reading this. I just don't know who. Crazy sort of mystery, but not knowing who you are helps me to write truth.
Because I don't write it for you.
(see? I just started a sentence with "because." Rookie mistake? No...I just wanted it like that.)
Maybe I am a pompous ass, but I write this mostly for me. I want a journal of sorts and in a world where I don't get much adult interaction, it helps to think that I am talking to some one even if they don't respond.
I just realized how much more sad than pompous that sounded. I am not a total loser. I do have friends....yes, the real face to face kind. I swear.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you are reading this. I have always hoped that by being open and honest, people could relate and if they couldn't relate, they could at least try to understand.
I want people to see that life doesn't have to be hard, even when it's trying. I have been through a lot in my 26 years. Most of it in the last six actually. I know that there are people out there going through a lot of tough shit too.
I write it for them.
For that mom who gets home from her 20 week ultrasound that didn't go as she hoped. So she hops on google, types in "tetralogy of fallot" and searches and searches until she finds that glimmer of hope she was searching for. She heard the diagnosis but everything blurred the minute she heard the words I heard. So she researches again what the doctor already went over and then finds that what she really needs are real life stories. Somehow she stumbles upon this little blog, probably because she now belongs to this tiny little secret society and there aren't many of us out there.
I write it for her.
For the single mom. For the wife facing divorce. For the real people.
I love it when I stumble upon a post that I feel like I could have written. When shit hits the fan, it's a lonely feeling, especially when you're surrounded by so much faux facebook perfection. Or even real perfection. I'm sure some people really do live lives that flawlessly and easily...but the majority of us are fighting complicated battles.
I write it for us.
In this world, there will always be loss, heartbreak, hurt, and confusion. That's ok. If you spend your life trying to run from it, sooner or later it blindsides you and you aren't equipt to fight back.
Hopefully somebody can arm themselves with these posts. They can find words of comfort when they face the real battles, and can take a minute to put things in to perspective when a battle isn't necessary. They can realize that it's ok to be genuinely happy and that sometimes you just have to pop it in neutral and coast.
Sure, I share more than my fair share. Don't ever confuse it with complaints or on the other end, complacency. I have real feelings, and I share them here not because I think you are concerned with my feelings (who do you think I think I am?) but because when I was the "her" above, I needed the honesty.
I share them here because there are more "hers" out there, and I want them to find a home here.
So, single friends that complain that all I write about are my kids...this isn't for you. None of you have told me this directly, but I know you're out there.
People who are offended by the fact that my vocabulary contains a lot of "fucks" and "shits"...this isn't for you. Again, I haven't yet come across a person who asks me to tone it down, but this is my voice and it is generously laced with curse words.
I don't think that I have more problems than you. I know that mine are just different than yours. I don't think my life is harder than yours and for those that pity me...this isn't for you.
For those that think they might have something to learn through another person's trials, welcome. For those that might find inspiration in another person's silver linings, I'm happy you're here.
If I can make you feel better about yourself, awesome.
Just know that I am blessed beyond comprehension. I pity the one who faces smaller obstacles, but feels like they are bigger. The one who lets the daily struggles consume them, without letting the daily beauty be enough.
This life is good. I hope that's what you see when you read about a baby with a severe heart defect or a woman in a rough spot. If you were to pile the struggles on a scale and weigh them against the good things, the struggles would most certainly hold less weight.