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I was recently confronted with a question. Why do I feel the need to put everything on social media? Why do I post my anger, my grief, my insert whatever emotion on a public platform? I do wonder from time to time what some people must think when they scroll through my Instagram, Facebook ( both personal and Blog), blog page, and posts. Social media wasn’t something I was really planning on writing about, but it’s actually a great idea. Social Media is a hot topic, and I want in.
I realize not everyone is the same and that some people, even those close to me may not exactly understand why I operate the way that I do or why I share what I do on social media.

So why do I let it all hang out there?

Let me Tell You What it’s Not About

Validation

No, I do not post about my husbands fallout with his father, or mine with my own before his death after a lifetime of alcoholism, my kids dad just dropping off the face of the earth, or my beef with the uppity PTA mom because I need anyone to give me a pat on the back and say, “you’re right, you’re a fantastic person. Your feelings are valid.” I know my feelings are valid, because I feel them, not because someone else tells me they are. Our feelings are always valid, even when they aren’t shared or understood by someone else. This was not something that I always understood, but I’m no longer a tortured teenager and have invested heavily in therapy to figure that out. My rants and posts have zero to do with that. Sure it’s great to know I’m not the only one, but I’m not looking for anyone to validate me through my ramblings. I do however hope that someone reads my words, my story and is helped by realizing they are not the only ones. Does that make sense?

If you know me then you know I’ll be pissed when I want to be and I don’t care who agrees with me. I’m a super nice, super agreeable person until I’m not. And when I’m not, I tend to be vocal about it.
I don’t need to check with Instagram or Facebook to see if I’m right or wrong. I’m not looking for that, I’m just venting really.

Sometimes I’ll write letters; letters I sometimes write and toss or never send. I have two unsent letters as we speak sitting in my kitchen. They have both been there for a year. Will I send them one day? Maybe. I don’t know. Either way, I needed to write them. To get my feelings down, to get them out.

Approval

I would definitely work on sprucing up the packaging my thoughts and rants came in if approval was my reason behind any of my posts. Because let’s face it: when my emotional switch gets flipped it’s like an open mic night at a trap house. It ain’t always pretty. A good deal of people, including some of those I love, definitely do NOT approve, zero stars given…which is okay because I give zero fucks in return. It’s part of my charm😘. For me personally, if approval was what I was seeking, a public forum would be the last place I would head because you’re likely to get a whole lot of just the opposite. Just ask all the people who have unfollowed or unfriended me. A few of my kid’s teachers follow this blog, and yet here I am, letting it fly. It’s just who I am, and it’s ok if it’s not who you are.

 

Not knowing how to pick and choose my battles.

I am a college graduate, a business owner, a mother of 6, a wife, an ex-wife and a co-parent with an ex-wife. I would not have survived this far without learning how to pick and choose my battles. 7 years ago we were in the middle of an ugly custody battle, being escorted to our cars at court by officers and today were sitting together at sporting events, snap chatting and watching fireworks together. It’s been 7 years of picking and choosing and taking turns putting our tails between our legs. At this point in my life, I think I’ve learned a thing or two about picking and choosing my battles. I’m certainly not perfect but it’s not a new concept that I need to be introduced to. It’s a continuing work in progress of course.

“Pick and choose your battles.” We all say it, we’ve all heard it, and it IS really great life advice, but it isn’t a cookie-cutter applied uniformly to everyone. We don’t all pick the same battles.THAT is what I’m learning and working on: What is worth it looks different to everyone.

Not everyone’s story is the same and I certainly am no expert or guru, nor am I trying to tell anyone how to live their lives. I’m just talking, sharing, working through my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings.

Let me tell you why…

It feels good to get it out

When some people are going through some shit they shut it down. They don’t talk about it much in person, let alone on social media. All of that is ok, that works for these kinds of people, to be alone in their thoughts and feelings while sorting them out. I am not one of these people. I’ve tried, it does not work for me, I drown. Trying to hold that shit in for me, is like trying to choke down rising vomit in my throat. It feels good to just sort of verbally expel everything. Verbal diarrhea if you will. Sometimes, like now, it makes for a really good read that doubles as a way for me to get out all of the thoughts and feelings I have about whatever it is I am going through or have gone through. It’s freeing and lifts a weight. Laying it all down there in black and white, whether it be a quick blurb, a blog, a letter or a clever meme, it lifts a little of that anger, that sadness, etc. It feels good. Something about being in black and white, there for others to read, makes me accountable for my feelings. It makes the weight feel lighter and my head, less cluttered.

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember and the older I am the more I am learning to love and accept that person.

It’s Nice to Know That Everyone is Sort of a Shit Show

Let’s be real, we’re all a hot fucking mess to some extent. Just ask any stylist you know, they will be able to tell you that they hear some crazy ass shit about their clients when they are in the chair. My girlfriend is a hairdresser and she always says, a session with your hairdresser is like therapy. My point is, our lives are all a little fucked up sometimes. We all experience extreme anger, sadness, grief, and happiness sprinkled with a few WTF moments. why not share them, lol?

Social media provides an excellent immediate opportunity to do so. I suppose that could be a double-edged sword depending on how you looked at, but I happen to think it’s great for some people and can be insanely therapeutic, for the person sharing and perhaps for someone reading. Maybe we should all share a little more that we all get into it with a neighbor from time to time, or have family fallouts and setbacks and problems at work. Maybe someone will read that rant or that blog or that short meme and they will feel better knowing it ain’t just them. They might read those words and just totally relate. Or maybe they will shake their head in disgust or laugh their asses off, and honestly, I’m ok with either response, because here’s the thing, people will chastise you either way. You’re either too real or too fake. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t I suppose.

Take this whole blog thing I’ve gotten myself into. I’m often sharing some pretty personal shit about my marriage, my children and just my life in general. That’s not a decision that a lot of people would make, to put their biggest struggles and successes out there for the public to read. I like it. It feels raw, it feels real, and for me, that is freeing, it’s empowering. It helps me sort through my shit while possibly helping someone else. If I can help someone who might be struggling to navigate their blended family or motherhood by sharing my stories than I’m happy to do so. After all, its human experience that connects us all. Maybe all that one person reading needs to see is that they aren’t the only ones who are a hot mess sometimes, who lose their shit, who are struggling with their grief, their addiction. You just never know.  I’m all about spreading the positivity but life isn’t always great, and when mine gets messy and my head gets too loud, I’m liable to share away. it’s not for everybody, and that’s ok.

 

I love to help and  I am a giver, but I’m no saint either

If you are one of the people reading this who know me personally, including my husband’s ex-wife, then you know I can be a real asshole. I’m a super nice human being but when I hit my breaking point or I get mad enough, I’ll tell you to fuck right off. This mama is holy with a hint of hood, Pray with me, don’t play with me you know?

Sometimes when I get a particular bug up my ass or someone has struck a serious chord with me I’ll prance on over to Facebook and type a snarky sarcastic rant, and yes,- secretly hope the prick stain sees me calling them out. Again, that’s because I’m a dick sometimes. I didn’t say it was right or that I always walk the high road. I don’t. I’m human and sometimes I snap, have a toddler fit and enjoy a good old sarcastic laced clap back. It’s therapeutic kind of. I’m not sure if that is right (it’s probably not) but I’m not trying to be right on this one, just honest. I’ll own that and do you one better, I’ll 100% tell you that shit is never changing. I come from a long long line of firey ass, opinionated, strong southern women. I have a smart mouth, and I spit fire, often.

Right or wrong, good bad or ugly I intend to keep on writing about the shenanigans that are my life as a mom, as a stepmom, as an adult….and you should follow along because I’m fucking hysterical 😘.

 

 

 

 

 

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