I’m so greedy. I have 2 blogs. This one, and another one called The Goddamn Motherworker. I have two because. Because I just would. Because I thought one was about everything that wasn’t my business and one was about stuff that related to work. But I’m a life coach, so it all kind of runs into each other. A duality dual. A mixed up mix. My ego and me. The mother and the worker.
Turns out I can’t really separate them, and sometimes I think I’m witting for one and then I think it’s for the other. So I share it with all and both because it seems that the people who like the way I write seem to like most of it.
I’m so greedy. I have 2 Instagram profiles. I have been told by all the knowing and naff social media crew that I know that this is silly and a waste of time. Which is true because I spend a lot of time logging in and out on my phone so I can post business stuff and family stuff on both profiles. Because I’m the goddamn motherworker and my ego just cannot shut the fuck up sometimes and then there’s me. Who loves taking photos and writing about stuff. As much as possible.
I’m super greedy. I have 4 children. At least. By that I mean I’m also into loving other people’s children, and it’s not enough that I have four of my own daughters but I greedily like to love children who I did not give birth to as well. And I try to write about this on My Ego and Me because sometimes I love being mother and sometimes I loathe it. And I try to write about it on the Goddamn Motherworker because sometimes it makes me better at my job and sometimes it makes my job impossible. And my Instagram profiles are linked to my blogs, which are linked to my Facebook (a profile and a business page both in the same name, but one you have to be my friend and one you can just follow). And then I see people all the time out in the world and they guiltily tell me that they feel like a stalker because they know EVERYTHING about me, and I just laugh and said it would only be weird and stalky if I hadn’t shared it in the first place. Which I have. Via at least 2 of every social media channel.
And then, I get to LinkedIn, which I understand is meant to be very professional. My professional profile. And I’m like, don’t show me your professional profile, show me who you are. I want to know who you are. Even the perfect life Facebook version, because there’ll always be something in the back of photos or a desperation in your selfie-eyes or something that shows me you. Use it for good. Add value to the world, because actually that’s what’s possible and I make sure that all the stuff that comes through me and back to the world is going to add to it and not take from it or rip it apart. Even if it’s just something funny or a dog singing. Add heart. #lovewins. So My LinkedIn profile is linked to all my other stuff because that’s who I am and I refuse to give you the professional version of me. She’s only half a woman. I actually couldn’t tell you who that is; because the whole version of me is the only one I’m prepared to show, even if sometimes I make myself want to shut up. I can’t shut up. And I can’t only share the good half of it in case someone thinks perhaps I am too messy or ridiculous. I am, at times, so messy and beyond ridiculous. I completely lost my crap with my biggest girl and our au pair (who’s just another one of my biggest girls now) on the weekend because I came home and the sink was full. I may have said, “It’s not a fucking hotel” a few too many times. And then, after all my ranting and getting it off my chest I did not feel better, so I had to call them back to start again. Clarifying that going out and leaving the house a mess is not my favourite, but that actually I was just upset because I’m responsible for them both and they’re adults and THAT IS NEVER GOING TO CHANGE. Even when they are bigger adults. Even when the other 3 children are adults. And I love that and I hate it in equal parts. And it’s teaching me everything and sometimes I don’t like learning it that way. And so lets just love and support each other and clean up the kitchen and not make dramatic declarations about “fucking hotels” and we’ll all be OK. And then we all got on with living together. Which with 6 women is beyond ridiculous most of the time.
Many times I said that the thing I wanted to do was to write every day. I thought that meant a blog and then when I couldn’t manage that I wondered how on earth I could ever do it. And then I found a way I could write everyday. On social media. And sometimes I could write with a photo I took, or just tell a funny story about how my children had nearly killed me before 8am or ask a question or write it all out. And I am so greedy I made sure I had as many ways as possible so I would have to just keep writing, and sharing and this is the way I give it back.
Because I’m so grateful that I get to be so greedy and have a life so full that there is always too much to say.
And too many ways to say it.