When things are getting you down a bit, it's easy to bury your head in the sand and pretend that it isn't happening. To forget to do the things that normally keep you on an even keel and to just be you.
The alternative is of course to write about all things and people that are currently annoying you. That can be very cathartic, and is wholly recommended. Usually.....
Unfortunately though, in my case, unlike you clever people who decided that blogging with an air of anonymity would be the way to go about things, I decided to go all out for five minutes of fame, and wrote in my real name from the beginning. It means that now, if you type Sally Lomax into Google, you cannot help but come across my blog.
This is great.
I have fame.
Well fame that is if you count typing a name into Google and it coming up with you. It's a sort of fame. It's not Marilyn Monroe, Posh Spice or Claudia Schiffer type of fame. But it is unmistakeably, unavoidably NOT anonymous.
And this is great.
Because it's sort of what I wanted.
Until that is, when someone says to you, that to blog about what you like, and who you like, isn't ethical.
That can sort of throw a BIG spanner in the works.
That is NOT so great......
Suddenly, your cathartic little way of getting round all things bad and negative in life is not available. Suddenly you think that everyone is reading you, (a relative word I know, because I keep a fairly close watch on my stats through the site metre), and everyone (in that very sort of small way) knows when you might happen to mention something, that MIGHT be something to do with them, which actually you would prefer that they hadn't read, about them that is, and although you actually wanted to say this thing, whatever it is, you sort of wished you had some other way of saying it, because you don't actually want the whole world to read about it here!
And yet........ you sort of do want the whole world to know what you are thinking too........... at the same time. What has happened isn't fair perhaps, and people are being judgemental and harsh over things over which you have no control. You are not there to defend yourself, and no-one else has come forward to tell you that it's OK, they do support you, they are just however going to play the game and not let on that they support you. Instead, there is deadly silence.
You are left without any outside support. Your family love you, and tell you so. But of course, it's a bit like your Mum telling you that you are pretty when your first boyfriend has just chucked you. You sort of don't believe it, even though you should , because after all mothers know best. I know. I am a mother.
But in the meantime, all I can say is that it has sort of gone wrong recently. Ever since falling off a stage. I seem have fallen from grace from people who I thought were friends. And without mentioning anything too specific, it's all to do with the fact that I wrote a blog about falling off the stage, and then told lots of people who I hadn't previously told that I write a blog, that I had written a blog. The result was plenty of publicity. And the problem was that I didn't let other people who might have been affected by such publicity, know that I was going to write about that particular subject and let lots of other people know, in advance. Of course, I personally didn't see the need to ask permission to write about it, when I had been writing my blog openly for the last six months.
So I didn't ask permission....
And I did write.
And now, on a Monday evening when maybe I should be writing something funny and clever about dresses for Chris's "Fun Monday". Dresses that I may have worn, loved, cast aside. I am instead writing about being dropped from on high. And not just onto my knee.
So, on clothes, I feel as if I am lying in an outfit that I once bought when I was pregnant. I always managed to buy at least one strange outfit, every time I was pregnant. This particular time I bought a brown sleeveless jacket and long brown skirt. I hate brown. Probably because I was forced into it at school. It's the one colour that always made me feel ill, and, after buying brown in the early stages of pregnancy that time, it made me feel even iller. I still associate the colour brown with morning sickness............
Sally's writing is about being a mother of five, now all too grown up, children, (four girls, one boy) a husband, a dog, and a serious ambition to be a mortgage free and famous actress, voice over artist, broadcaster, writer and teacher.
The "Cast" List for the blog includes:
Hubby - Her husband,
ED - Eldest Daughter,
ESOS - Eldest son only son,
Sensible - Second daughter,
Gymnast - Third daughter,
Tinkerbell Mushroom - Youngest daughter and youngest child,
Mad Dog - AKA Lucy - the border collie.
Guest appearances by MIL (mother in law), parents, two brothers, inlaws, nephews, nieces and great nephew.