The loneliness and the overwhelmingness of it all was excruciating. So I did what I had always done. I started writing. But instead of pen to paper as a means of clearing the mind clutter I took to the internet. And that's how this blog came about. I made it public because I knew I wasn't the only one out there going through the same issues. I figured if even one other mother, one other law enforcement wife found comfort in the fact that I was making a complete mess of it then putting all of my fears and failures into words was worth it.
Some of my greatest pain has been poured out in this space. But so has some of my greatest joy and peace. Through it all I have met an amazing group of people. Some come and go, some stick around longer than others, some left in huffs when they realized I neither needed nor wanted their prolific advice, others left when they realized that I stood up for my beliefs and opinions just as strongly as they did, and then...then there are a few who have my back no matter what. And I will never be able to express how very grateful I am to have them in my life!
I write for myself. I share stories and pictures for family living far away. And now, writing down my stories from childhood, I write for my children. They'll read all of this one day. I'm sure they'll take to their therapist as evidence against me and their dad. I'm fine with that--as long as I get a share of royalties from their own tell-all book.
Over the past several days something amazing has happened. When I wrote the first piece about my memories growing up in Africa I shared it with my fellow TCKs/Global Nomads/MKs. The response, not just from them but from everyone else who discovered this little blog from those posts, has been overwhelmingly supportive.
I always get a little nervous when my dad shares my blog link...he does it every now and then for various reasons, the last time being the epic chocolate cake I made him for his birthday. But I figure when I link to it, the people who see the link have a pretty good idea as to what they're in for. I'm not the perfect missionary/preacher's kiddo. I cuss when the occasion calls for it...and it often does. Sometimes the post is little more than a goofy discussion I had with either one of my children or my husband. There's a link on my sidebar to my husband's blog. He deals with the shifty underbelly of humanity on a routine basis. His means of coping are much like mine--write it down, preferably with either a glass of IPA or a shiraz...or, on a truly bad day, a couple fingers of Glenmorangie. We're both human. We're also both each other's strongest supporter.
So here's the blanket disclaimer: I do not ever intentionally mean to be offensive. If, at any point, you are offended, then I apologize. But I'm most likely not going to take back whatever it was I said that set you off in the first place. Neither do I tolerate inflammatory, racial or personal attacks in the comments. I don't have a problem at all if someone disagrees with me...but keep it respectful and I'll do the same. As I tell my children, as soon as the argument/discussion crosses the line of attacks and disrespect--I automatically win by default.
With all of that said...Karibu sana! Stick around and chew the news for a bit.
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