Hard to believe that I started this blog nearly a year ago. I started because I, frankly, was getting tired of journaling to my son via pen and paper. I’m old and my hand cramps up. I’m a much faster typist than writer, so I decided to blog.

My goal was to continue to document my life as V’s mother – and all of the silly, wonderful, special, challenging, and stupid-toddler-like things he does. What I’ve learned is that blogging has also become a place for me to escape, to be more real, to vent. It’s become painfully clear to me, however, that I’ve been holding back. As with what has plagued me my whole life, I worry about what people might think of me. People that I’ve never met and likely never will. I haven’t been honest with myself and now I’ve pissed myself off.

Who the hell cares if I don’t get many readers? Why in the world was I obessed with that in the beginning anyway? Is it because I no longer have as many close friends as I once did in college and I am now somehow considering my blog stat count a count of friends? Am I that insecure? I don’t want to be, I know that much.

In an effort to be more honest with myself and truly use this blog as I feel I currently need to – I’m pledging to myself to be my authentic self. Raw. Unedited. Typically doesn’t say the p.c. thing. Might be the reason I don’t have many close friends anymore, actually.

Ready? Set? Getting real ….

Yes, I have an amazing child. Don’t we all? And yes, I have an amazing job. But I struggle daily with the fact that I work too much, even though it’s really only part time. It’s with the Husband and marriage subject that I’ve not been honest with myself. And because I’ve found blogging to be therapeutic, it’s time for some therapy.

My marriage is in real trouble. I’m faking my way through it hoping it will somehow settle in to something that is tolerable. Okay I said it. And I’ll likely post more about it in the future once I wrap my brain around just what the hell is happening. I’m not quite there yet.

Alone. Simply said, that’s how I’m feeling right now. My closest friend lives on the other side of the country. And I miss her. Two of my other close friends and I no longer share anything in common as they are both single and without small people. The friendships I’ve made at work have faded because since becoming a mom, I am no longer able to meet them for drinks after work. And on the now rare occassion we might have lunch together, I can’t really add much to the conversation since I’m in a different life space. I feel like an outsider.

Just last night a group of them were going out after work together. Gone are the days when I even receive a courtesy invite. I left the office feeling very sad for myself – until I picked up my little man. He is the one amazing thing in my life – and I am so very blessed to have him.

Although I had hoped to, I’ve yet to build a strong friendship with any neighborhood moms. Mostly because there aren’t a whole lot of them currently in my neighborhood. That’s changing, thankfully. We’ll see. But those friends whom I do have that are married with child(ren) are all stay-at-home moms who have built strong relationships with others like them. Me = outsider again.

In my office, exactly five of us are moms. Two of them are single moms of a teenager – so they both get plenty of time to go out and socialize with other adults. Three others are mothers of small kids V’s approximate age, but they are quite a bit younger than I am and we really have zero in common other than the fact that we are mothers of small boys.

Pity party for one, please.

Thanks, dear blog, for letting me bitch. I actually feel better. And it didn’t even hurt!