Mummy blogging rant

Mummy blogging? Friend or foe? Enemy or enema?

Someone asked me, the other day, where I find the time to blog ? Truth be told, I don’t. I don’t have time. I’m a quick at typing and I ignore everyone for a good 15 minutes until I’m done writing. 

Here I am trying to unite people by isolating myself. 
Someone asked me the other day why I went viral, and I embarissingly explained it to three women how I wrote an honest post about how my body changed from before and after kids. I told this to three THIN women, who all have had a child. One of them even had twins. I looked like a dick telling them, and I felt like a dick telling them, that’s for sure. In the real world, no one gives a shit if you mum blog… not even yourself. 
What’s funny is, before I wrote that post that landed me a TV interview and having my name appear in the same sentence as Constance Hall and Chrissy Teigan… (I can retire from life now)

I actually wanted to quit mummy blogging. I actually wrote a long spiel how mummy blogging has taken my soul, but I posted that  before and after selfie instead.

So here is a semi rant, a truthful insight if you will, to the wonderful world of mummy blogging. 
Sometimes it’s not what it cracks up to be. You start writing because you want to offload all the thoughts swimming in your head, and it becomes a type of therapy for you. 

You have days where you just want to get it all out, and you post a million things,and other days, you don’t brush your teeth, let alone find time to express yourself creatively.

When you do write something, every person that agrees with you makes you feel amazing because you feel like you’re not alone. You feel like these beautiful women (and some men) are your best friends. You feel sad when they feel sad and happy to make them laugh. 
You want to reach out to every single person, but sometimes you don’t know what to say. You don’t wanna look like a douche

But then, sometimes, the writing you have written from so deep in your heart gets ripped apart by random people. You get told your opinions are stupid, which is fine, but you’re not allowed to defend yourself.

You receive messages and death threats and people who tell you to go kill yourself (to a depressed person, not so good you know?), but god forbid you retort… because “if you post something publicly, you should expect people to have an opionion” 

You get bashed! You are told someone else wrote something similar, you’re not original; which is funny because you write relatable things which is what other people do, so you start searching for your words on search engines to make sure you don’t sound the same. You stop free flowing your writing. 

You find people who rip off things you wrote…word for word… 
You find people don’t like you just because you mum blog. Let’s face it, the social media world is saturated with mummy bloggers… we are like personal trainers… everyone is one. 🏃🏻‍♀️

You find people want you to sell their business and advertise their pages, people you’ve never met. You explain you want to help, and you will, but you’re not about that, you’re here to help others who are down… believe me, it doesn’t sit well. They think you’re sitting in a mansion making money rain, so you should fund them as well. Honey if I could, I would. 

You even find some mum bloggers dislike you, and make effort to try to bring you down, and yet talk about liberating other women in the same breath.
It can be an ugly world. 

And people forget you’re  human.

They just see a photo. Not a person.

I am human. I laugh, I cry, and I care. Sometimes the negativity doesn’t bother me, I laugh at some comments… but others it hurts. Just because I chose to express myself publicly, doesn’t mean I asked to be bullied. It doesn’t matter how “thick” my skin is, it doesn’t excuse assholes from being assholes.

Anyway, by now you’re probably thinking, why do it?? Especially if you’re going to be all whingy pants about it…

Well…

Because one day I was breastfeeding my son, 12 weeks old… hadn’t slept a wink. I screamed so loud because it hurt so much and I startled him and he cried, and I cried. I laid him down, and I went into the cupboard and I stared at all the antibiotics in my cupboard. I thought about ending it all there. I felt like I couldn’t do this. 

Instead I picked up the phone and messaged my friend, who I call my Doula, and she sent me a blog written by a mum who promised one day this dark haze will all be over and that we will both smile again.

I said to her, “I could have totally written that.”

And she said, “well why don’t you?”

So, If I can help one sleepless mother, a mother who feels alone, who’s only “me” time is in the toilet, an anxious person who is isolated, a depressed person who doesn’t want to go on, all  like that blog helped me, then I am one lucky and honoured blogger. 
(I can’t remember what that blog was called, cookie and something!)