If I’m Being Completely Honest

So its been a little while since I did a proper update. I haven’t done an Ernie update for a while anyway. I’ve found it quite difficult to focus on making sure I have regular content whilst life has been getting in the way and fucking it all up. Everything around me seems so intense at the moment. I don’t know if its work, that time of year or the fact that Christmas isn’t the same without Timmy being around, especially as its Ernest’s first. I just cant seem to put my finger on it. All I know is that from time to time I feel like a black cloud is following me around.

My motivation for blogging is waning and I think taking some time out and putting less pressure on myself has definitely helped. Although its not helped my waistline as whilst i wasn’t typing I was basking in as many snacks as my body could physically take. Now i’m a few pounds heavier and I’m feeling reflective. I’m always trying to remind myself that i’m doing this for me but I would be lying if i didn’t also want people to read it. I tell myself that as long as i have one person read it a day I’m happy.

And to be frank even if i announced on Insta or Facebook that I’ve posted a new blog and 100 people see it, it might only be one person who bothers to look anyway. So what’s the point in actually telling anyone if I’m supposed to be doing it for myself?  I question this all the time. Do people actually give a shit about what I’m up to? Why do they want to know about my kid? I feel that way about posting pictures on Insta too.

Although i know that I’ve made some ‘virtual’ friends and I’m pretty transparent, i guess my photos will reflect a much prettier perception of my life. Its fucking tough looking after a baby on your own whilst your husband is away for months and months of the year, whilst holding down a job and maintaining a house. I don’t like people to know that I struggle I just tend to get on with things. I want to be able to wake up every morning, get Ernest up, have all my shit together and be happier than I am at times.

In reality I stay up too late, eat way too much unhealthy food and take Ernest back into bed with me every morning rather than feed him just so i can try and get that little bit extra sleep. It never works and I end up with a few swift kicks to the vagina, a hair pull and groundhog day starts all over again. My kid watches more TV then id like him too but if it means i can wash my three F’s as my mum likes to say, then I will plonk him in front of Rainbow Dash for a moment or two. I just have to remind myself to strap him in or he’ll end up on the floor after commando rolling off it.

There is definitely truth in those pretty pictures somewhere but in my real life i generally don’t have such a rosy portrait painted. I’m silly, clumsy, leave dirty knickers all over the house because I’m too lazy to pick them up, i swear a lot because i enjoy swearing, i want to be everyone’s friend and have a knack for creating new friendships amongst my friends with people i have met along the way, even though i tend to be very socially awkward. I try to be as kind as i can be, but i have my bitchy moments like the rest of them. I am also always looking for acceptance.

It shouldn’t be about numbers and I’m not looking to gain one million followers as I’m not as invested as some people and I may not come across well enough for people to want to follow me. If i notice that I’ve been unfollowed, it bothers me. I can’t deny that it bothers me, because it does. I wonder what I may have done to warrant it. It could be genuinely something very simple but my mind goes wild at the possible reasons. I’m very aware that people follow for follows and I don’t agree with this at all. If I follow someone its because i am interested not because I expect them to want to follow me back.

I actually feel really stupid writing this as its not real life, my real life friends are there when I need them so why do I care if someone who I haven’t met has an opinion on me?

I’m not generally one for being a Debbie downer, letting people know that i’m not myself or struggling in fact. Its just not my way, its also not something that I really think I’m usually capable of admitting. I’m not sure why I’m laying it out on the line but for the meagre people who do follow my blog or Instagram I wanted to do you the honour. I do really love to write and its such a great outlay for me.

Today marks 6 months since I started it and I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long. I tend to give up on most things or get bored of them. Books, DIY, doodling, they all get shelved. However the difference is I like to think that I have something to look back on for myself and for Ernest.

When I was in my early 20s and just out of a seven year relationship, I started to write a journal. It was my very own Bridget Jones diary, warts and all, that documented being single before Tinder was invented. I never finished it and its always something that I wish I had but its also a funny little reminder of how far I’ve come. Every so often I like to have a read, chuckle and to cringe my tits off at.

I know that when Ernest grows up he too will have his own little journal to look back on. He may not want to read it and if he doesn’t I can just use it as ammunition to embarrass him at any given opportunity. So that’s reason in itself to carry on.

I have lots of ideas but i can never seem to muster up the energy to finish them off. Although we are nearing the end of the year and that’s a great opportunity to start a fresh. I will keep posting on the blog but i’m going to do it as and when. I’m sorry that i’m having a moan but i’m glad I’ve managed to get a few things off my chest. A problem shared is a problem halved as they say. Tomorrow is a new day after all.

I have a mindfulness book that gives you something to think about for every day of the year and todays seems pretty apt.

“There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so” – William Shakespeare