It doesn’t often happen that I know exactly what I want to write about, but can’t think of a proper title – so I’ll give this blog post a name when I finish. (Not that it means anything to you — there probably is a title as you’re reading this, so it’s all good.)
I’ve been doing a lot of my blogger-soul-searching these days, and I think I “found” my soul.
I’ve been trying to convince myself that I don’t need a niche, that everything I am passionate about can’t possibly be bad for my blog. I’m starting to realize I may be passionate about too many things to write about.
I figured, I can be a personal blogger, with a story about our lives here and there that people will enjoy and identify it.
I know there’s something more out there. More for me, more that I want to do.
One of the things I really want to do is scale this project. For it to grow into more than just a blog. For it to be a brand. An idea.
I can’t really do that by being a “journal blogger”, as some would call personal bloggers.
There’s no proper way to scale my content into what I’d like it to become.
There is something that I’ve found to be immensely satisfying, something that I’ve been obviously orienting towards in all my previous posts.
I’ve been building my niche without even realizing it.
It took scrolling through all my previous posts to really see it and accept it.
Let me try to put it in words.
It’s a type of lifestyle that builds everything but real life on social media.
It’s the advice moms will give to others, but will not follow, because it’s impossible.
It’s the gym selfies four days after giving birth with a flat belly that doesn’t look like it spawned a baby at all.
It’s the pressure on all the new parents who scroll endlessly, looking for comfort, advice or an answer to problems.
It makes them feel anxious. Depressed. Makes them think they’re doing it all wrong. I know, because I’ve been there only a few short months ago.
I felt ashamed because it would take me two weeks to wash my hair. Because I was fine with wearing shirt that had a bit of poop on it that I knew about… in my defense, it was a comfy shirt. I even felt uncomfortable posting pictures with my baby on them while he had some pretty bad eczema, afraid I’ll get judged for not knowing how to deal with it. (Eventually, I posted them. Guess what? I still got judged.)
It took me a while to realize who I’m writing for.
It’s those parents.
Lost in fake expectations social media pushes onto them. The ones who feel bad about being imperfect.
I want to break the illusion of a perfect family life, perfect stay-at-home moms, perfect pictures, perfect methods, perfect lifestyle. Perfect anything.
There is no perfect today.
The fact that some parents out there think they’re failing because they don’t look, feel or do, the way they see it “possible” on social media is eating me alive.
What I’m giving you is real life. Real advice. Real stories.
I want people to know how good and how normal it is to not strive for fake perfection, just to please others. Sometimes even the people we don’t know.
That’s my mission statement. My goal. Something that’s been entangled in all my previous posts, and it took me months to see it. To put it into perspective.
I just needed to get it off my chest. So this is a pretty selfish post, in a way. It was written for me, more than for you. But I’m glad to have you here. I need you here – to know I’m doing something right, to know I’m helping someone be a better version of themselves. By accepting themselves.