It's not you, it's me...

So. Seven months into the parenting game and I've come to realise something. Well, several things in fact.

I need a break.

You see, I've always been a writer, but never delved into anything but fiction before this blog, but in an attempt to keep my mind busy and to cathartically document the baptism of fire that is parenting, I thought writing may help. I thought delving into the whole mummy blogger community may help, maybe I'd find solace knowing many others were facing the same things and loving/hating it in equal measure.

I was wrong.

The mummy blogging community is great, full of incredibly witty and honest parents with different styles and ways of expressing the same journey - no problems there. But the more I see of it and the more I read, the more I clam up and retreat. And that's a big warning sign to me.

I suffered through a few years of crippling anxiety about 8-10 years ago or so. I've since identified the cause and dealt with the issues that followed, but I'm still very aware of the warning signs of sliding back into that horrific, claustrophobic mindset that held me back for so long. As a natural introvert, it's really easy for me to just curl up, shut off and exist only in my head, something that ultimately becomes unhealthy. Some people that know me might be surprised by that, but believe me, I work very hard to try and balance that side of myself out and be sociable, amicable and even outgoing.

So when undertaking an activity like blogging, which not only exposes you - or the version of you that you're up for sharing - it creates a real focus around the subject you're writing about, and since my focus is usually on how difficult I find this whole baby thing, I've come to realise it's really not helping at all.

The Facebook and Instagram version of life isn't reality, I know that, and no one wants to see the real picture of me 95% of the time, complete with the tick-list of mum cliches - home alone, no make-up, sick/drool/shit on clothes/carpet/furniture, greying unwashed hair, endless household chores and a whingey, teething baby requiring constant attention or a meltdown forfeit. But still, for the blog I'll produce a pretty picture ('hashtag no filter!' LOL!) and everyone is allowed to go on thinking that it's all gummy smiles and milestone moments to get soppy over.

Ultimately, it all boils down to one thing for me - the thing I find the hardest about being a mum is losing my identity. That's it. Everything else I can cope with, but having no sense of who I am anymore very quickly leads me down that dark, twisty road into my head.

So I've put the brakes on and turned to face another direction, and I'm forcing myself to walk. I need to just get on with things as normal life, rather than analysing everything and focusing on how tricky it is, and how much guilt it's possible to feel for not loving every second and... you get it.

I'll carry on writing, but I think I'm going back to fiction. So thanks for reading, sharing and commenting, I'm glad it connected with some of you. And who knows, maybe you'll hear from me again, albeit in character and maybe even in print. Until then... over and out.