Inspiration, at times, is something simple but powerful.
This week I wrote a post in two parts. I used to think I would never share that story. I just couldn’t see how I could admit to that stuff.
As time went on, though, I knew I needed to write about it.
After conversations last week, I knew I needed to do write about it now so other people struggling with the same things could read it and know it’s okay. That it will be okay.
I wrote the whole thing and had a good cry. I went to bed, got up and revised and edited. I got my husband to read it to make sure he was okay with it and I asked him the question I’d been scared to ask for months.
I sat in front of my computer. I looked at my husband, who knew I could do it. So I held my breath and hit ‘publish’.
I held my breath for a long time.
I had no idea what kind of a response I’d get. I was sure some would be supportive (especially since I’d called on my #PPDChat army for back-up) but I was waiting for the haters.
They didn’t come.
I got nothing but amazing support. I got emails. I got DMs on Twitter. I got messages on Facebook.
I was totally overwhelmed. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for the support.
I also got messages from women who aren’t ready – who may never be ready – to admit publicly that this is an issue for them too but who wanted to reach out to someone who understands.
Knowing that sharing the hard parts of my story helps other people is inspiring. It’s why I write.
Odds are I will never be able to reach every mom who struggles with this and thinks she’s alone. But it doesn’t matter.
I’m inspired to try.
