Okay lurkers, de-cloak and tell me if I should call it quits with this.
In the past few months I have been really struggling with whether or not it makes sense for me and my family to continue the blog.
I need to write, there’s no mistake about that.
And I need to be truthful when I do it.
But I am starting to worry about how this all looks to outsiders.
I see the comments people leave on popular blogs. (Not that mine is, or ever will be, popular.)
I know how critical the world is and how easily things are taken out of context, mercilessly scrutinized, and then judged unfairly.
I am hard on myself and I don’t always write about my recoveries, you know?
I don’t elaborate on the hugs and the triumphs of my motherhood as much I do on the tantrums and my parenting failures.
I can only imagine what the world thinks of me.
My mom is concerned that those who don’t know me will think the worst, and maybe even use my own writing to somehow harm me or my family.
And maybe I worry about that too. I’m candid, and it’s usually when I am disappointed in myself.
When I’m at the school, I wonder every minute if the other parents or the teacher or the aides are reading the blog and thinking I’m the worst mom ever.
This morning, a little girl in the line next to ours was playing with a small glass stone. She brought it to school to show her classmates, but when the bell rang she was tossing it up into the air over and over again and only catching it about half the time.
I told her to put it away. She asked why and I explained that it could hurt someone if it hit them on the head when it fell. She was not in the mood to have me tell her what to do. She continued to throw it behind my back, assuming I had no peripheral vision.
I probably should have said something more to her, but I was suddenly possessed by paranoia because of the blog. What if all of the adults on the playground read my posts and long ago decided I suck at parenthood? Maybe none of them would appreciate my attempt at maintaining order in the chaos of the morning playground line-up. Maybe they would even ask me to leave or keep my mouth shut. That’s what the blog does to me sometimes.
On other occasions it makes me brave. I meet moms who seem completely overwhelmed by parenting a special needs child and I feel lucky to have a voice and the courage and skill to use it. I get what my son needs, wherever we go. I get what I need.
But I don’t know from moment to moment which of those feelings outweighs the other. Am I too paranoid? Or am I confident in how I manage my family and my life?
My mom and I had lunch today and discussed a few related topics. I have considered ending the blog. My mom suggested I leave it up and think carefully about whether or not I want to keep doing it. I asked her if she thought I shouldn’t instead take it down and consider whether or not I want to keep doing it. I don’t recall that either of us could answer that question.
So I guess that’s what I’m asking all of you.
Should I keep writing the blog?
Should I keep telling you about the dark moments in my parenting?
Should I worry that some jerk with an agenda will one day try to make trouble for me and my family by twisting something I’ve said or judging me out of this greater context?
What do you think?
I really, really want to know.
P.S. Happy Wednesday.
P.P.S. I finally finished my book and passed it on to a friend. Now I’m reading a children’s book by the same author. It’s probably just as well that it’s meant for kids, because my brain is usually pudding by the time I have a few minutes for leisure reading.
I got both of these titles for under a dollar at the thrift store. Happy happy smile smile.
P.P.P.S Did I tell you that I sent my kid to school with a giant safety pin holding his pants together yesterday? 😳 He really wanted to wear them, but they were too big and all of his other pants were in the washer. If only I had remembered to tell the aide that I’d done it, but I forgot. I don’t know why I think the blog is such a damning source of my parenting failures. Seriously? Can you imagine sending an autistic eight-year-old to school with a giant pin in his waistband? I didn’t even have to write anything to look bad for that one. Sigh