Breaking Radio Silence

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while (or have spent any time browsing the archives) you’ll be well aware that I used to bare my soul on here on a daily basis. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say, and my desperation used to lead me to sharing just how awful I was feeling with anyone who chose to read about it.

It used to be easier to do that.

I’ve had some rough days lately and part of me wanted to just stay silent and pretend that everything was hunky dory. Maybe that’s because I don’t want to admit that I can’t prevent bad days with baby #2 just by sheer force of will. (Okay, that’s a big part of it.) But it’s also partly because I don’t really want to get into it. I don’t want my mother worrying that she’s going to have to talk me off the ledge again. I don’t want to appear vulnerable.

Feeling vulnerable sucks.

But feeling like I’m not being true to myself sucks as well. I know – I don’t have to share anything here if I don’t want to. But this blog is part of my path through this whole experience so I’m okay with sharing things here.

The good news is that the last couple of days have been better. The extra good news is that I haven’t had any more conversations with the steam cleaner. (I would, however, like to point out that my husband mistook the steam cleaner for Connor the other night too. He didn’t actually talk to the steam cleaner, so he maintains he’s clearly more sane than I, but I’m not convinced. I think he’s just less inclined to talk to inanimate objects in the middle of the night.)

In any case, I hate feeling like I spilled my guts and then went radio silent. So here’s a picture of some old-fashioned toffee tins.

rileys-toffee
Pretty, don’t you think?


 

Comments

  1. Very pretty.

    I hate when I write something that I think ranges from healing to meaningless and my mom calls with the “are you okay?” Yes mom. I’m fine. I get the worry, but sheesh.

  2. I understand where you’re coming from.

    I don’t want to get another, “You’re depressed” comment. Some days are just rougher and I turn to writing. And I’m not looking down on people who suffer from depression, but I didn’t like the quick labeling others are so quick to slap on. So I hold back (yes, you’re right, I do).

    It’s your blog though, so you should be able to write whatever you like.

    Very pretty toffee tins – they don’t make ‘em like they used to, do they?

  3. Feeling vulnerable does suck.

    And it’s beautiful. But you know that too.

    We see you and we hear you and we love you. Whether you’re talking or not. You are doing great, even when it doesn’t feel great.

  4. Tease. Toffee is yummy, and now I am thinking about eating some.

    I’m glad you’re feeling a little better.

  5. Hugs Robin. Vulnerability stinks. I am glad that you are feeling better. I’m here for you whenver you need to talk. You helped me so much through my darkest days. xoxo

  6. So pretty! I understand where you’re coming from, and I’m sure people expect it from you, to spill your guts every week/day/month. I, on the other hand, like to surprise people with a “BOOM!” gut spillage, random and out of nowhere. Doesn’t happen very often. HA.

  7. I love your tins (that sounded wrong), I have one old Riley tin with a nice plant in it, love it! I call that dead air crickets…

    Feeling vulnerable does suck, this post to me seems not vulnerable, but brave! :)

  8. Don’t you find that sometimes it takes more energy to talk/write about it that it’s just better to be silent? I get that a lot.
    We are here for you even if you don’t want to share each crevice of your brain. It’s ok to not share.
    But make sure that you do share it with the ones you love…hubby…mom…etc. So they know that they need to be more supportive.
    Nice tins.

  9. Very pretty! I like honesty…

  10. well, I think I have hold back quite a lot all my life. You know, like when you hold a very loud and nasty sneeze? That’s how I feel. It’s ticking though. Any day today it will vomit all over my blog.

  11. I am currently reading Brene Brown’s book all about vulnerability, Daring Greatly. Have you read it?

    I am glad things are looking up. I hope they continue to do o, my friend.

  12. I SO get this. Vulnerability does suck. BIG time.

    We’re here whenever you’re ready and if you’re not, we will still be here.

    Very pretty tins, by the way.

    xoxo