I had this idea. Writing. It's something that I love. Am I amazing at it? Skilled? Really? I'm laughing at myself, like out loud. Literally. Like, Seriously?
Where others can think on their feet, pun, and have a quick whit, I commend and am super jealous. Seriously.
Me, I do my thinking internally, the inner monologue sort of thing where I can mull it over. Play with it, think, think, and over think. And, I can write it out. Which, I know, results in it sounding a bit...conversationy. Which is a style, right? Should be.
So, back to my idea. Writing. I have this idea that one day I will write and people will love it and I will be forever remembered as a writer.
And then life.
Always the life.
Which is a nice excuse. I'm busy. I've done the school thing, I've done the wifey thing, the mommy thing, the moving thing, and the working thing. I'd really have it no other way. I'm content with my life and it has been an amazing ride that I truly do enjoy.
But writing has taken the back stage, back corner really. Behind my priorities and tucked right beneath my insecurities.
And there it glares at me, to rear its raw and unflattering head from time to time. Where I am forced to try. Try again, try it, try again. It pleads with me. It's like, a fish. Who's got nubs for legs. And can see all the other fishes going on, growing those legs, developing them, running, falling, all joy and happiness. But, it just sits right there, at the edge of the water. Nice, comfy, safe water. You get my drift right? It's cliche and everyone has that moment, right at the waters edge. So, I won't finish that story.
But. It is my story. I don't mean to sound like it's all a check list either. I really like to think I can find moments to enjoy the moments, the state of being. But, it's my personality? Maybe that's not the right word. It's how I best judge my goals I guess. I ramble. I'll bookshelf that discussion.
Moving on.
So what's the whole point? Well. That idea. That idea of writing. I decided for it to become a solution. Or at least, an outlet. Finally, a good hold! The other day, I felt all these life events and goals that I juggle crash to the floor. I'm a mom to a 2 1/2 year old. A wife, going on almost 10 years. And, I work full time as a secretary to a university department. Those are just my jobs. I also have the regular life stuff that needs to happen in order to function as a civilized human. Laundry, for one. Eating. Bills. Family. Social life, etc etc etc. All the things that make up a day.
And I sat in my shower and just cried. Because I can usually do all of it. I can do the working, and the mommy, and the wifey and the lifey but for whatever reason (I do blame partial responsibility on the full moon, but can't break what's not cracked already, right?) I just saw this doom pit of gloom where I was just tired. And I felt completely failed as I saw each of my balls of events go right into that pit and crash. So, in the shower, I wallowed in my pity with my imaginary invisible juggle balls, invisibly smashed all around me.
I didn't like that feeling.
I want to also footnote a bit here about the dangers of comparing and the perfect-life-that-is-so-unattainable-you-make-me-vomit idea. Again, bookshelf that one.
No one likes that feeling. It's a depression. And a stress. And frankly, it's not healthy.
And then the next morning, light bulb.
Epiphany.
Answer to prayers/pleas/promise.
Why not write about it. The scary B word...the Blog.
This dead old depreciated thing that I have given up and killed like...five times. Oh, look, I checked...that would be a gentleman's six.
But write what? One thing, and then kill it dead?
The working mom. The Pay Check Mom, if you will. Cause I don't really consider myself a working mom, that sounds like business suits and executive and out to change the world one report at a time. No. I'm just the pay check mom. Because sometimes life means you have to earn a pay check. I'm not out for a career, not out to change the workforce with some kind of feminist fire to burn. Nope nope. Just have the bills to worry about. But I want to still be a mom, and still want to be a wife, a sister, a friend, a coworker, and just be Britni.
Does that make me an expert? No. I'm sure a working mom that went out for a career and working field would eat me alive. But, I'm a firm believer that everyone's experience is different, even with the same events that occur on two different women.
It does provide me with an experience though, that maybe some other working mom could use. And in turn, maybe they can share with me. Because that's what women do and that's how we grow strong. Connections.
And so, this idea. This blog. To help me share my experience as a Pay Check Mom. I can write. I can work. And I can find a way to maybe make a life out of it, or at least be remembered for it. I'm not asking for a movie or a reality star moment. But just a place to talk about the multiple worlds that is a woman's life. It will be an outlet for frustrating days or nights when crying in the shower (a real must sometimes, I might add. Not ashamed of that, nope nope) seem like the only thing you can be successful at.
