(Posted on Terri Terri Quite Contrary on November 15, 2007)

Do you ever get sick of your blog? I think I'm getting sick of my blog.

This is not to say that I don't want to continue blogging. I love writing. Sometimes I write compulsively, even though I have nothing of value to say. Most of the time it's just mindless banter. Every once in a great while it's something a little more thought provoking.

The problem is, I've noticed a trend in my writing. I've noticed that I'm no longer being me. I'm striving to be funny or nice. I'm trying to be charming or smart. I'm trying to be the good mom and wife. I've written enough about trying to strengthen my faith (knowing all too often that it's still very weak) that I'm telling myself, "I can't write this. I can't write that. I'm supposed to be rising above that."

It's been a long while since I've felt the fulfillment that comes with taking the risk of actually being me. Those times when I've literally let the words flow from my thoughts through my fingertips, and then hesitated for a split second before hitting the publish button? Those were the times when I felt like I did something real.

The reality is, I'm not always nice. I'm quite often sarcastic. I'm impatient and short tempered at times. Sometimes I come home from work and I don't talk to anyone. My job requires that I talk to people all day long and sometimes my husband and kids suffer the after-effects. I'm not saying it's right. It's just what happens on occasion.

Sometimes my husband is bossy, or I take his words as condescending and I resent him for it. I don't hesitate to let him know it. Other times, I am the bossy one who doesn't care how anyone else feels. There are times we don't support each other in dealing with the kids. We don't have one of those completely lovey-dovey relationships and we don't always do what's best for each other. It is what it is and we accept this in each other. And we keep working on improving it, some days more so than others.

Sometimes I curse. Yes. The "eff" word even. Sometimes I announce to anyone or no one in particular that the person who rubbed me the wrong way is a moron, a jerk, an idiot. Sometimes I go to church. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes it doesn't matter to me. Some days I'm selfish and juvenile.

What is my point? Do I have a point?

I think the point is that it's hard trying to keep up such a self-imposed facade. Yes, there are days that I am truly happy, loving, generous or silly. But lately I feel like a fake. Sometimes I want to write that I feel depressed or angry or selfish, not to seek solace or support, but simply to say that this is how I felt today. This is me. This is the real me.

You're probably not surprised, are you?