I'm having trouble writing a new blog posting. I'm not inspired. I don't feel profound or wise. I haven't embarrassed myself (I don't think) and nothing particularly funny has happened.
I have some books I could review but I don't feel like it.
Luckily I've had and will have a few pre-written posts that will go up.
I really dislike (hate is a strong word) blogs that are so perfect that they're obviously not based on a reality I can relate to. I know those women must have bad days. They must fight with their husbands or have kids that forget their homework or don't want to go to school. They must have messy bathrooms. But they don't show us. They just show us the photoshopped, well-groomed, spotless pictures of magazine staged rooms and beautiful people.
I swore I wouldn't be one of them and I've tried to be real. I've told embarrassing stories about myself. I've shared some of my disappointments and I even posted a picture of my stitches when I split my eyebrow open.
But the last week or two I haven't been able to do it. Life has felt hard and I've wanted to share the hard, you know, so we can commiserate when life is hard for you, too. But I've been stuck.
I've written posts ranting about the politics (and poor sportsmanship) of 6th grade basketball. I've written about my frustrations with legaleze. I've written about my disappointment at delayed mission calls. I've thought about writing about family dynamics, asking for advice for kids who don't like school or bedrooms that don't get cleaned. I almost wrote about watching my son get a nerve block in his neck prior to surgery that took everything in me not to throw up on his bed and make him more nervous than he already was.
And my head and my draft box just sit full of these things but I either don't feel like writing them or I can't bring myself to push the publish button.
Maybe it's because I don't want to complain. Maybe it's because I'm feeling mountains of insecurities and I don't want any of you to roll your eyes and mumble to yourselves that I don't know how good I've got it. Maybe it's because I know that no matter how I'm feeling, I know someone has it worse.
I don't know. I just know I've hit a wall. Maybe I need a vacation. Maybe I need to learn to feel as comfortable fictionalizing my life so everything looks good from the outside.
Or maybe I just need to go clean my bathrooms. Or cry. Or cry while I clean my bathrooms.