Archive for the Category »you might think i'm crazy «

19
Jul 2010

31DBBB: Elevator pitch

By becky

I’m participating in the SITS community 31 Days to Build a Better Blog challenge. We’re working our way through Problogger Darren Rowse’s workbook of the same name.

Our first day’s challenge is to create an elevator pitch for our blog. I always stumble when someone asks me what my blog is about. Because, well, it’s about me. And my family. And whatever flights of fancy filter through my head.

How do you pitch that to readers? Or advertisers?

I’m a mom.

A writer.

A wife.

A woman.

As I try to balance all of those things, I’m still figuring out where the old me fits in with the new (mommy) me. So maybe that’s what this blog is about.

You see, I once thought I knew who I was, but that’s gotten lost in the diaper shuffle. Or maybe it got left under the dirty clothes. I might have left it under my desk since I work from home and don’t see a lot of adults at this point in time. Occasionally, but not that often. If it weren’t for Facebook and Twitter (and managing to get together in person with friends from there once in a while), I’m not sure if I’d have any adult interaction aside from hubby. And that’s a lot to ask of him. Can you imagine having to be someone’s all? Their everything? That’s quite a burden.

Maybe I should talk about that struggle a little more. Instead I keep it inside. I don’t know why. I’m sure so many moms can relate. For now, I think that’s going to be my elevator pitch. It may change later.

I’m a writer who’s trying to balance work and motherhood, while figuring out who I am beyond mommy.

What’s yours?

Category: meta, you might think i'm crazy  Tags: ,  One Comment
21
Feb 2010

My reality

By becky

Recently, it feels like I am such a failure at everything. And when you feel that way, it is so hard to write about it. Since that’s all I’ve been talking about lately anyway, it gets pretty old. And if it’s bugging me, it certainly must not be fun for you to read about.

And yet… it is my reality. All I see are the things I haven’t done. Projects I haven’t finished, things I have failed my son and husband in, my messy house, a stack of books I haven’t read, filing and laundry and dishes to be done…

I used to be (and feel) so organized. I was on top of everything most of the time. And now, if it weren’t for automatic billpay, we’d probably be without living quarters or utilities. I just can’t seem to get it together.

It’s hard to admit. Hence, the ongoing silence. What do I say without sounding like I’m just whining? AGAIN? It’s still my reality right now. All I see right now as I look around is everything I haven’t done yet. Every misstep. Every failure.

Category: babbling, me, me, me, you might think i'm crazy  Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,  10 Comments
19
Nov 2009

Therapy

By becky

Please note: Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Me: [had a problem that required some expertise well above my abilities] i may be calling for backup.

Her: np

Her: happy to help if needed

Me: thanks. i figured i could call the calvary if needed.

Her: note to self: get horse

Me: hahahaha – you just reminded me of a “Bones” episode we saw last night [rerun] that involved role playing w/ men pretending to be horses. it was STRANGE.

Her: the longer i go without watching television, the more it confuses me

Me: dude. they were dressed up in fetish gear pretending to be horses. and the women were “trainers” or something. i’d never seen that episode before.

Her: i didn’t need to know any of that

Me: sometimes, in order to help with healing, you have to share these things.

Her: good save

Category: me, me, me, you might think i'm crazy  Tags: ,  Leave a Comment
19
Sep 2009

The invisible woman

By becky

penpaper I’ve been a writer for almost as long as I can remember. If you were to look in the back of my closet, you’d see stacks of notebooks and journals that I’ve filled over the years – and many more waiting for my pen. Since having my son 22 months ago, I haven’t written as much. Mostly I’m too tired. And too busy writing other things that help us make a living. By the end of the night, I’m spent. The words swirl around in my head, but my hands are too tired to record. And my journal sits there, quietly accusing me of neglect.

Will my son wonder why I didn’t write as much after he was born? Will he wonder if I had nothing to say about him? As you can see from many posts on this site, that’s not really true. But who knows if this record will even be around by the time he finds my papers?

I’m not even sure, most of the time, why I write. I feel compelled. It is not something I can ignore. I am me, therefore I must write. I process the things in my head by writing. I quiet the tortures, the demons that swirl around and tell me to worry about the things which I cannot control. I quiet the voices that tell me I’m not good enough, not pretty enough, and too lazy to really accomplish anything of worth.

Lately some of those voices have been louder than my pen.

And I wonder what my future family members will think of the gaps in my journals. Will they be able to put together a picture of my life? Will they find me interesting? Sad? Pathetic? I mostly hope they’ll see me as a complete person. Not just mom. Or grandma (someday, hopefully).

I guess I really want to be known as more than just mom because I’ve been feeling like that is really inadequate lately. After my son was born, I became invisible. I’m no longer an interesting person in my own right. I feel fat. Dumpy. Uninteresting. People look right through me.

So I hope that writing pulls that veil back a little bit. Even if it doesn’t make me visible right now, maybe it will later. Maybe not. I write to leave a record. I was here! I may not leave a big impression on the world, and few people may remember me, but I was HERE dammit. I mattered.

Here I am. The invisible woman. I may not change the world, but I hope I can change my world with my pen. Letter by letter, word by word. (Or should that be Bird by Bird?)

image: cohdra from morguefile.com

Category: babbling, me, me, me, you might think i'm crazy  Tags: , , , , ,  5 Comments
15
Aug 2009

They never left me

By becky

disillusionment

I was 20 years old when I ran away from home.

Yes, I do think you can run away even when you already moved out of your parents’ home. And that’s what I did.

I was married. Going to school. Working. My then husband was having a hard time keeping jobs. It was always something. He didn’t get along with management or someone got promoted over him and that person didn’t like him. Or he’d be late too many times. I was so tired of asking for money to help us pay our electric bill. We had a very small house payment (we lived in a mobile home) and could barely make that.

I felt trapped. I had signed on for this. I was miserable. Embarrassed over our finances. So young that I hadn’t a clue what to do. I came from the camp that believed you don’t divorce. So I tried to make things work.

The ex had lived in California before and felt sure he could get a job back at his old employer. He was so sure there were more opportunities there. He wanted to leave. I didn’t want to let go of my family. Eventually he wore me down. But I was too afraid to tell them. Afraid they’d tell me how silly it was. I already knew it was a bad move. But I so hoped that something, anything, would be better than the way it already was.

So we packed everything up and drove to Cali. I called my parents after we entered Palm Springs. I cringe to write that out. Those words hold so much pain. So much hurt. That *I* inflicted. I don’t blame the ex for that. He wanted me to tell my parents. I was so afraid. Afraid of their disapproval. Afraid of them talking me out of it, or seeing the disappointment on their faces. So I ran away. Avoided it.

It took a long time to rebuild that relationship. They never stopped loving me. Never broke ties. I was so ashamed of what I’d done to them that it took a while for me to ask for their forgiveness. In the meantime, my ex took advantage of those broken ties to fill my head with lies about them. Things they had (allegedly) said to him when I wasn’t around.

My parents aren’t like that. I knew that deep down. They have never said anything bad about anyone who has done them wrong. They would not make snide comments. Other relatives? Yes, they would. But my parents? Never.

It took three more years of heartache, of hearing lies about my family before I finally realized what was going on. That I could leave. That it was enough. That I didn’t have to take it anymore. People divorce. We make mistakes when we’re young. We don’t always choose well.

But I am so grateful that my family stuck by me. Even when I hurt them. And didn’t really deserve it.

I left them. They never left me.

Category: family, you might think i'm crazy  Tags: ,  Leave a Comment