A few months ago, I wrote about The Brave Thing.  I’ll wait while you read it.

 

Anyway, it’s one of those things that’s incredibly hard to be open about, let alone live through.  I admire anyone that can be brutally honest about their feelings and personal life because I really struggle with that.

 

(I feel the need to explain that I haven’t been all “Please read this but I can’t really talk about it, you just have to guess what I’m on about while I hint a bit” on purpose – I just couldn’t/wasn’t allowed to talk about it.)

 

For those that know me, I’m the opposite of a ‘woe is me’ type person, I promise you.

 

But do you have any idea how frustrating it is not to be able to talk about something so very personal?  To have something that is such a massive part of your life, that affects every single aspect of your being, that changes who you fundamentally are … but you can’t share it with people?  (Answer:  very.)

 

I’ve said it before, and I still stand by it, I love my blog … I love making people laugh (hopefully with me not at me,) and I love the fact that it’s predominantly a lighthearted blog, but sometimes, sometimes … I need to be completely real about who I am and what all of my life is like.

 

But here’s the thing. I can’t.  What if a prospective employer reads it and judges accordingly?  What if my family read it?  My kids?  People I love?  What then?  I don’t want to hurt anyone.  Put my ‘stuff’ at the door of others.

 

I laugh about my dating faux pas, my attempts at being a relatively half decent single mum and I have the occasional moan about how shit plus size clothes are.  But actually, I’m a big ball of RAAAH right now.  Does that make sense to anyone?  That RAAAH has to go somewhere.  And I don’t know where.

 

Actually, I think the predominant feeling I have is … sadness.  My life wasn’t meant to turn out like this.

 

I’ll let you into a secret.  Behind the big red hair and laughter is someone that just needs an arm round the shoulder.  That’s all.  How sad is that?  I don’t need someone to solve all my problems (although that would be nice, obvz,) but it’s a lot simpler than that.  I don’t live on my own … but I’m alone.

 

Ho hum.  They say that writing is meant to be cathartic.  So this time tomorrow, everything will be OK.  Won’t it?

 

The Brave Thing.  Concluded.

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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8 Comments

  1. I’m so sorry you’re having a tough time I love reading your blog and you’re totally right it’s that fine line of over sharing that isn’t really for everyone else to know, it’s private to you. Perhaps you’d find it helpful as a writer, to write the post it would be spilling it all out & then shred it so it’s vever read but you’ve got it out of your system…. Or does that sound like American therapy tosh?? ;), I’m not sure what else to say, so sending you hugs and hope everything falls into place for you soon xx

    1. Thanks for commenting – it’s very kind of you. (So YOU’RE the person that reads it?!!!) I hear what you’re saying – it’s what I’d suggest to someone else lol. Thing is, I’m so tired of even thinking about it that the thought of writing about it is EXHAUSTING! 🙂 But thank you x

  2. The RAAARRR can go onto a blog in another name. It can be written down and put on pen and paper and be burned. It can be sobbed down the phone to the Samaritans. It can be buried in a hole in the garden.
    It can be told to a stray cat.
    It can be told to people you don’t know. You have my email. email me. get it all out. Get rid of it. It cannot be allowed to hold back such a wonderful woman.
    For every positive thing that happens to you, put a small pebble in a jar and watch them grow.
    Have a virtual hug.

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