Maybe I shouldn't be putting my life out there in the cybersphere like I do, spinning stories about my weight struggles or my pregnancy challenges. Maybe I shouldn't be so personal. Maybe I should just keep a private journal, tucked under my pillow for safe keeping.
However, I realize that I am NOT the only one who suffered through 9 months of misery (twice) in order to welcome four exceptionally precious little girls into her life. I am not the only one with such jacked up hormone issues who has been plagued with calamities that no modern woman would ever want to deal with on a personal level, much less actually talk to another human being about. I am not the only woman who couldn't breast feed despite having "more than a handful" squeezed into a nursing bra. I am not the only woman who couldn't get pregnant and STAY pregnant without medical intervention. I am not the only woman who avoided stepping on a scale because frankly... well, it didn't freakin' matter what I weighed because the answer is always "too much".
My blogs might not be interesting to you. My musings might be TMI. That's OK. Stop reading them.
But maybe something I have to say will touch a raw spot in your life. Maybe something you've been hiding, even from yourself. Or maybe you will be so kind as to tell a friend who has similar issues about what I write, with hope that she may find an answer, choice, solution, or just a kind shoulder to cry on. That's why I am writing now. Maybe I'll help someone get through a rough patch in their life. Maybe I'll provide someone with an option to research. Maybe I'll give someone a referral who can help them get through something similar that I've been through. That person never has to comment on my blogs with some witty anecdote or even say thank you.
What encourages me is the mere fact that maybe someone someday might be prompted to walk a new path that gives them more smiles than they have had without having known my dirty laundry.