Yes, I know I’ve been MIA, again, I know this “slow blogging” lark is the new black or whatever but I admit I’ve been ripping the arse out of it a bit more than I should. I’m finding everything so exhausting at the moment, the “trying to be OK” shit is really taking it out of me. But still, things feel a bit better – maybe – more tolerable. Fainting from violent panic attacks, getting locked in my therapists office FOR HALF A FUCKING HOUR and well, a whole truckload full of other stuff I could really do without aside, it’s getting better, I think. Possibly. Maybe. Perhaps.
Fuck it, I’ll say things are better. There. I said it. I’ve jinxed myself now, ain’t I? Whatevs, things can’t get any worse than they were, can they?
Don’t answer that.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say in a round about way, is that it hasn’t all been dancing unicorns, candy floss clouds and permanent rainbows etched upon the sky in neon Sharpies, but it’s OK. It’s alright.
And so I move smoothly onto my next subject, and it’s a biggie.
There I was, bedecked in my uniform of ketchup and fish finger crumbs on Monday, ya know, usual for dinner time, I know my appearance has gone to shit but seriously, and I hear the news that the BritMums BiB’s shortlists have been published. I go to have a nose, hoping to see some familiar names, what I wasn’t anticipating was that I’d see my name in the Fresh Voice category. Nope. Didn’t see that one coming.
Fresh Voice. Fresh. Voice. Freshvoice. FRESH VOICE.
If you say it enough times it makes even less sense. I just can’t compute it. I really can’t.
Be prepared, I may go all sentimental and gushy enough to make a female porn star proud ‘ere, so I’ll apologise profusely in advance and I promise, promise to say cuntflaps loads in my next post to make up for it. Pinky promise.
I’ll let you in on a secret. Don’t tell anyone, OK? In real life, my voice doesn’t always work, it conks out and totally eludes me when I need it the most. The thought process is there, I know what I need and want to say, but somewhere along the journey from brain to mouth, it gets stuck and I choke. It’s all trapped in my head with nowhere to go and I look like a simpleton gagging on my own tongue, as I attempt to get them out.
I started this blog because I simply didn’t have a voice, I lost it and myself somewhere along the line of beaching myself on the sofa and shoving too many Minstrels in my face, dealing with plate after plate of crap that I didn’t order and finding this motherhood shenanigans really a lot harder than I’m pretty certain it ought to be. I don’t know where it went. It could be wedged somewhere in the depths of my sofa, among the discarded sandwich crusts and jigsaw pieces, I dunno, I probably ate it to be fair.
It packed it’s bags and waved goodbye, and I had all this stuff in my head that I knew was there, but couldn’t get out and couldn’t understand how to say it or where to say it. I thought things and felt things, and desperately missed the ability to share them with anyone, to be able to send a text saying OOH GUESS WHAT? BEAN JUST LAUGHED SO MUCH HE SHAT ALL OVER THE LAMINATE FLOOR! or maybe that he’d learnt a new word or how to sing the alphabet and something less poo-based.
I needed to feel as though I wasn’t the only one. That I wasn’t a bad mum and that this stuff wasn’t normal exactly, but it was OK nonetheless. That it was OK to feel so lost and lonely and as if I’d been transformed into a lobotomised zombie that couldn’t speak.
That’s why eight months ago I chucked all caution and fear and low self esteem and all the other bollocks that come with severe depression to the wind and stuck my name in a little box and made this blog. I didn’t have any expectations. I just had to write.
I didn’t have a Danny La Rue that anyone would read the gumf I filled these pure white pages with. That in eight months I could make people laugh, or cry – soz about that. That I could help anyone. That I could make friends and bonds with people all over the country. That I could have an actual readership. That I could win an award for this post. That I could feel better about myself and be proud of something that I have done. And I really, truly didn’t believe I could find my voice again.
I’m completely touched and humbled that someone, anyone nominated me for an award, and that my name is in a list amongst giants such as Ramblings of a Rock’n'Roll Mum, Just a Normal Mummy and Best Dad I Can Be.
And I wanted to say thank you, whoever you are, for listening and letting me find my voice again.
If you’d like to vote for me to reach the finals of the BiB’s in the Fresh Voice category, so ya know, I’ll actually have to force myself to get dressed and leave my house and see ACTUAL REAL LIFE PEOPLE and inevitably drink too much and honk Mammasaurus’ bazookas, you can do so by clicking that sexy little button below.
Thank you, dudes, I mean it.