I will say, one thing I've become [more] aware of after becoming a parent and getting to know other parents is the extent to which many people feel the need to present the happy-face, sanitized, perfectly lit version of their lives to all and sundry. I find myself much more drawn to those who are willing to admit to the difficult times or even the dark times. Of course I love seeing baby pictures on FB and am genuinely happy when things are going well for the people I know and love; but I think too often people don't want to admit to the struggles, at least not where everyone they know can see it.
Yeah, I don't always share everything bad on facebook. I didn't post about my miscarriage there, but I also don't feel the need to present my life as shiny and perfect all the time.
With relatives I try not to unfollow, but I hit hide post a lot.
I know a lot of women who enjoyed their second trimester, but that's only one out of three.
Yeah, I don't always share everything bad on facebook.
Well, sure, it's not always the right forum for everything, either. I didn't mean to imply that everyone *should* post about bad things if they don't feel right about doing so. I guess what I'm trying to say is that FB makes it really easy both to edit our self-presentation relentlessly, if we choose to do so, and also to compare ourselves to others. So I've found it useful to remind myself that many people are only presenting the shiniest, happiest parts of their lives, and that it does me no good to compare the entirety of my sometimes difficult, often messy life to the (necessarily edited) versions of other people's lives that they're putting out for public consumption.
I know a lot of women who enjoyed their second trimester, but that's only one out of three.
I've certainly found it to be the best of the three, but that's rather faint praise.
OK, I'm off to bed! Wishing a good night's rest to all.
I have become quicker and quicker with the "unfollow," and it brings me nothing but peace. Echo chamber my arse - I know what the "other side" is saying and I don't need it. Nor do I need endless posts about the wonders of essential oils, for an example.
I did go to yoga. Just as well that's not a class I can normally make, because I have no plans to take a class with that teacher ever again. It was labeled "mild to moderate" and was the most strenuous class I've taken, but not in a good way. I didn't like her cues and ignored many of them; I thought she led too many challenging poses instead of focusing on doing a few properly (this type of class is supposed to focus on proper form). Blah. I got a couple good things out of it but in the main, she is not my cuppa yogic tea at all, at all. I miss my favorite teacher. She had to go and leave, didn't she.
Up too late but it's still thundering rather badly and I have to take a shower before bed. Makes me nervous showering in this bad a storm in an old house with possibly crap wiring and plumbing. I guess I'll just have to be quick and keep my fingers crossed. ISTG, I am losing my damn mind with this rain. We've had more days of prolonged torrential downpours than not in the last three weeks or so. The storm today was terrifying.
Anyway. Right. Shower. Bed.
I love love love the black bean burgers with avocado. Yum. Doesn't help with your protein needs but sure is tasty.
smonster, the next time you're in KC, because IT WILL HAPPEN, DAMMIT, you can be my free guest with my friend Kelly, who is an AMAZING yoga instructor.
ION, I made it to two yoga classes this weekend, and plan to go for a walk/Zombie jog tomorrow, workload and weather permitting.
So I've found it useful to remind myself that many people are only presenting the shiniest, happiest parts of their lives,
Trust me, you only want to see pictures of Matilda in cool clothes, and not listen to her have whiny meltdowns before school and before bed.
Although my parents enjoyed sharing a photo of me as a baby, sitting in my little table (one of those that's a table with an opening and seat in the middle) with spinach spread across my entire face.
