In true millennial fashion, I have an inflated sense of self-importance. Starting The Baby Buddhist last month after a yoga class was a lightbulb moment.
“…I like to write. I should really write more. It would be good for me.”
“…maybe my experience could be interesting enough to be entertaining at worst and inspiring at best”
“…I think I’ve really got a unique take on this whole spirituality/marriage/conceiving/life thing”
“…This may be the beginning of a book deal or a memoir. I’m probably going to be on TV for this someday. I’ll probably be rich and famous. I’ll definitely be a whole-hearted person like Brene Brown talks about. FINALLY!”
Yeah…that progression happened in like the time it took to drive the 1.5 mile from yoga to home. Starting the blog at the kitchen table after never having read or followed a blog, or been on Twitter, or taking a writing class as an adult, or really having any credibility to get people to listen or care about what I say, you know, that’s how I do. I went to bed dreaming of the 1000+ followers I’d have by the end of the first year. The tiny honeybee buzz I’d create on Tumblr. The rollout that I’d have in a few months when I revealed on my Facebook page and to friends and family that I was secretly being The Baby Buddhist. (Cue the music)
Ummm, I guess stuff doesn’t happen that way. The truth is, no one reads my stuff. It’s humbling to see one view on my blog…like ever. I guess when you’re not fully in the “I can’t get pregnant so I’m basically a pin cushion because we’re going through in-vitro” camp OR in the “I’m a first time mommy” camp OR in the “I’m married and satisfied never having kids” camp OR in the “I want to bitch about my situation online” camp OR in the “I want to not bitch at all about my situation online” camp…you’re just not in a camp. The camp for people not in those camps is called motherfucking life. It’s called trying to just fumble through every day and figure it out. It’s called being hopeful and disappointed and happy and sad and vulnerable and strong and right and wrong. Another way to say that is…normal. Just seriously the most normal 30-something trying to make my marriage a happy one, my career a valuable one, and now trying to shake it all up and have a tiny human that I don’t have any idea what to do with. It defies all logic. I’ve listened to the TED talks. I know that people with kids have marriages that hit the lowest happiness levels in the first 5 years of their kids’ lives. I know people with kids have less money, take less vacations, often have less career achievement, get less sleep, are more likely to be overweight….and on and on and on. And still, I want one. Or a bunch actually. The chaos, the challenge, the heartache I’m just like first in line yelling “sign me up.”
I think I’m special. I think I’m going to be able to get to the secret of how to be pregnant the best, how to parent the best, how to make my marriage and career great in the midst of it all. That’s right, me, Katie Beth Kegel, I’ve got the super secret so come one and all, listen to me tell you how to achieve perfection in your life too.
The truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. I am scared to death. I am scared I want something I’ll never have. I’m scared if I get it I’ll screw it up. I’m scared that letting people I know read all these thoughts will make them think I’m crazy, weird, weak or don’t have good judgement. All of those things are true on some level. But most people don’t go on the internet and let their crazy flag fly. Most people aren’t out there all like “I don’t know what I’m doing, but don’t give me advice.” Well, I guess I’m not like most people. And I don’t know how the story is going to turn out. And I don’t know if I’m going to have even one single nugget of wisdom that helps another soul. And I certainly don’t know if I get everything I want what the hell I’m going to do. But, I am hoping…hoping, hoping, hoping, that maybe the normalcy of my crazy, the fact that my story ISN’T unique and is as scary and confusing as every other person may just be a club of its own. A club for…people. People going through some shit and trying not to lose their shit and just get from today to tomorrow. How about it? Are you in?