I gave up on posting things online and creating

after having my baby.

It's his fault for being too gosh darn cute.

I was busy enjoying baby snuggles and

living in my baby bubble and being the best mama

I could Google my way to becoming.

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Now I’m a corporate mama.

I’ve been working full-time as a working human woman

and mother

for the last year.

It’s an ill-advised way to spend your life.

It’s chaotic and busy and messy and sad and wonderful.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Everything is a trade-off when balancing life with a baby and a “career”

but let’s file that thought under “things to journal about later”

because the word career feels a bit gross right now 

and we can't possibly unpack all the things in one poem/mental breakdown/Notes app blog post.

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Something that has suffered the most while trying to balance it all

(which is an impossible thing to do, by the way.

Balance is an unbelievably inappropriate word

to use in any context other than Olympic gymnastics

or for those whacky goats that climb mountains)

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There is no balance, only lopsidedness 

and I don’t just mean my boobs after breastfeeding.

Just life in general.

Really, the thing that suffers is me

I am the sufferer.

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I put my needs last.

I get sick all the time.

I eat a wild amount of McDonald's.

I often (daily) forget to shower.

My workouts consist of me and zero working out

and I don’t make stuff as much as I used to.

Of course, I make stuff as an obliging professional creative

but I don’t have any time for my art, man.

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I need to do something with my hands to feel alive

and that comes in the form of painting or writing or drawing or making videos

like this blog post

so that’s what brings me back here today.

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You don’t need to read it

but I need to make it and post it to feel like I did something for myself

and feel like all the corporate jargon and mindless emails

are not my whole personality

and the toddler who cries out for his mama isn’t the only human who can appreciate me.

I need this for me.

I feel empty and depleted

like a sad little basketball that got left outside for the winter

but I came to a cafe today to post this blog post

and get some air pumped back into my soul.

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At some point

I came to the conclusion that having a mildly unsuccessful blog or YouTube channel in your late twenties

is sort of embarrassing?

The cringe of it all was too much.

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But actually, now, it seems way more cringe 

to care about what other people think.

And that I would let the fear of never having anyone read my writing

stop me from sharing the things that I love doing

and the things that make me feel like a fresh, bouncy basketball on a crispy winter’s day.

The embarrassing thing is giving up, actually

and not trying

because it didn’t work out

sooo 2024 guys 

this is 2025.

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We’re doing things this year

And we’re pumping ourselves up

even though we’d rather lie on the couch

with a medium quarter pounder and a glass of red wine.

So, for anyone out there who feels a bit deflated

let’s be our weird and embarrassing selves together 

and find that thing that puts a bit of air in our balls

even when it feels like we’ll never bounce again.

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Edit: I quit my job three months after writing this to chase my dreams. They should be around here somewhere.