It’s been a tough month. I don’t know whether there’s been a glitch in the universe’s matrix, or whether it’s just good ol’ fashion bad luck and timing, but my soul has been groaning under the weight of it all.
From the outside, it may look a lot like I’ve got my shit together. It may look like I’m bossing it at running a business, growing a blog and doing cool stuff; it may look like my life is balanced, creative, exciting and instagram-worthy. It may look like my clothes are clean and ironed and the outfits may even, occasionally, look well put together. You probably assume that my underwear is always matching. My teeth may look clean, my hair brushed and my nails chip free. My kids may look really well-behaved and just precocious enough to be this side of cute. My marriage may look hot, steamy and brimming with mutual respect, support and kind words. My business may look like it earns me a shit load of money and it may look like I’ve perfected the elusive work-life balance that we all chase. It may look like my house is clean, my bed is always made and my legs are always shaved.
Reader, please trust me when I tell you that, this month, it has been none of those things. Of course, I still have a business to run, a blog to grow, work commitments and a family to keep alive and hold together but if it ever looks effortless and stress-free in a dancing-through-a-meadow type way, I can only apologise. It’s not that I intentionally deceive anyone, or go out of my way to make anyone feel less than enough. It’s not that some or all of those things aren’t true at some point, sometime, but they’re not true all the time, not even a LOT of the time.
My underwear never matches. I’m teary at least once a day with the pressure of everything I’ve said yes to. I’m averaging about 3.2 hours sleep a night. I have a threenager that is stomping and screaming her way through life. I have a husband who I barely see, kids who are starting to wonder who I am and a blog that remains neglected far too much of the time. I did manage to shave my legs the other day but I cut myself and now I’ve got scabs all the way up my right leg. Don’t even talk to me about my bikini line or armpits. My laundry bin is overflowing and I’m surprised that my bedsheets haven’t got up and walked to the washing bin by themselves. I have one wall in my house that I take pictures against; the rest of it, every single other wall, needs painting.
But this…all of this, isn’t why I was having a bad month. This is what motherhood, parenthood, womanhood, adulthood is like. It’s what it’s about and most of the time you have the power, you can manage and hold it together and life the shit out of life and all that comes with it.
Sometimes, though, your stores are depleted and something shifts, like an internal tide, and you just can’t get on top of it all. My tide is currently out. I have no doubt that in a few days, a week, maybe even a month, it’ll be back and I’ll be surfing this tempestuous sea of responsibility like a pro once again. For now though, know this…no matter what social media is telling you, I’m holding this all together with some bobby pins, Berocca and a shed load of Batiste but you know what…I’ll be back and until then, it sometimes helps to know that, at the very least, my Instagram is pretty.