Hello lovely readers (or those of you that are left anyway)! How are you??? I’ve had a recent epiphany of late – the kind that is probably brought upon by both a lack of sleep and time. It’s a pretty simple one:
i am not perfect.
everything i do does not have to be perfect.
the pursuit of perfection takes a lot of time and is very often fruitless.
This epiphany could also have come about due to the fact that I’m now the 32-year-old mother of a five month old baby girl. I have had to face some harsh truths this year and climb back down to earth from dreamland. Pushing a human out of yourself sure makes you look at your physical body in a new light… especially the ugly bits you pretended for years didn’t exist. Looking at yourself in this light also forces you to not only accept those ugly bits, but perhaps even like them. Having a little someone to be responsible for has made me view life, the world, others, and myself, a little more realistically. A little less rose-tintedly. For the last few years, after a nasty and anonymous online exchange, I’ve been doing my best, mostly unknowingly, to tip toe around social media and the image I put out to the world of myself. Good angles, the best lighting, fabulous intentions, happy vibes, and most of all edited photographs and edited thoughts. But while it’s always great to feature one’s life as beautifully and positively as possible (thanks Lightroom, Bestie, VSCO, Snapseed etc etc) it’s just so. damn. time. consuming. Especially if I’m not a business or a brand making money out of all this perfecting. The more time I spent on editing text and photographs for both this blog and my social media platforms, the less time I spent on doing the thing I love most in the world: and that’s writing – writing about the life I’m living. For sure Instagram can provide the platform to curate a beautifully written post – but man, sometimes it’s just not enough characters to say what I need to say! I’m so tired being frozen into not doing or saying anything because it’s not good enough for my high standards or the standards I think others hold for me.
So, here I am, calling myself out for a return to the good old days of uncensored thoughts on my actual blog. Instagram is going back to being the place where I store my memories because god knows i haven’t printed a photo in years and it’s a lifesaver to have a concise space to hold all those special moments in neat little squares. Of course, if I have the time to snap and edit some pretty pics, I will upload them here – but I’m also going to give myself the permission to post things here that are not so perfect. Because the more I sit around spending day after day editing and proof reading and trying to make things look seamless, the less likely I am to actually post that thought or image… which is really sad! I have shit to say and, yes, it may be ugly or silly or stupid, but maybe a few people can relate to it and maybe, just maybe, we can go back to sharing and chatting about things that don’t involve an impeccable flatlay or an airbrushed face. And also, most importantly, I wanna beat the arse-holey algorithms. There is nothing worse than spending ages on a post for only a certain amount of people to see it. If you subscribe to a blog or newsletter, however, you can get blog posts and news direct to your inbox. No algorithm can take that away! I’ve missed out on so many posts from my favourite bloggers because I expect them to come up in my feeds and they just don’t anymore. So I’m actively going to search out all my old favourite blogs and subscribe to them today.
I have so much more to chat to you guys about! this year has been so fucking loopy and amazing and bonkers and scary and I’ve learnt so much about myself but I literally have ten minutes left until I’m in full on mom mode again, a mode which leaves very little time for writing! I have three mornings a week to myself, so I’m sure I can pump out at least one garbled blog post (much like this one) every few days. I need to find my writer fingers again. So here’s to telling and showing it like it is and spending more time on the things that really matter – you know, like living life and spewing my heart and guts out to the world at large and connecting to those who feel the same. As imperfect as it may be.