Friends, don’t let the highlight reel fool you. We all want to focus on the great parts of our days, of our life, right? And that’s what we share.
I know I’m guilty of this. Many of us are.
Some days I share poems about how having a special needs child is equivalent to arriving at an unexpected vacation destination…
Other days I want to scream AUTISM F*CKING SUCKS from the rooftops.
Over the past several months, I’ve shared a lot about Jack’s progress and the strides he has made. What I also did was bury my feelings of how incredibly difficult, frustrating and exhausting this all is. One can only do that for so long.
This past week, I came to my breaking point. I was like one of those damn hatchimals. Every time a friend asked that simple and innocent “How are you?” question that many of us give the automated “Great, and you?” response to, I slowly started to peck at the shell that held all these feelings in. I found myself crying – at the gym to a couple of sweet friends, in the middle of a restaurant to another mama friend whom I adore and then last night with some of my best girlfriends.
I came to realize that I thought I was being strong by highlighting all of the good and suppressing all of the “bad.”
I was wrong. I now see that strength is being honest with yourself. Letting your feelings out. Admitting that you don’t know what you’re doing sometimes. Admitting that parenting is hard. Really hard.
I love social media for many reasons. I rely on it for keeping in touch with friends and family, for my business, for entertainment, etc.
But I think it’s too easy to assume everyone else has it all together. We have to realize that what we are seeing is the highlight reel. We aren’t seeing the behind the scenes reality. This isn’t to say that I am going to start publicly airing all of my dirty laundry nor do I wish to know everyone else’s… I guess I just want others, who feel like they can’t open up about what it is they struggle with or are having a hard time with, to know they aren’t alone.
So, my friends, take it from me – don’t be a damn hatchimal. Call a friend, talk to your husband, your sibling; heck, call me. And when I ask how you are, I don’t want the programmed “Great, and you?” response either. I’ll take the tears. And I’ll be here to tell you that you aren’t alone.