Confessions 

So, I have a Confession.  Actually, I have a few.

This blog, it’s never going to be what I originally said it would. Why? I don’t have the time or inclination to make it that. I could make time, but I can’t be bothered. I’d rather bake or cuddle my kid or pets or husband or dance or read. I apologise for misleading you. I also promise you’ll get over it.

I’m not nice. I tried real hard to edit out all my cranky and be the least offensive version of myself I could be, but I just feel like a big phony. I’m not a sweet little thing. I’m a tactless, judgemental, brutally honest, but very loyal, package. I’m passionate and cold and jaded and angry and excited and happy and many other things, but I am not nice or sweet. So I will not be pretending to be those things any longer. You’ll get over that, too.

I have no “target audience”. In truth, I have zero aim with this blog. It’s for me, for when I feel like it or need it. I have no desire to be read or known. I don’t care if I hear crickets when I post. If you are reading this, that’s really great. If not, it actually makes no difference and I’m addressing empty space.

I feel adrift. I’m not a creative and I’m not a people person. Blogging doesn’t come naturally. More than that, though, I am painfully aware of the differences between myself and the bloggers I read (and occasionally socialise with, on account of PiCT). Most of them probably fall under Parent Blogger. And here’s the biggie, I don’t define myself as Mom. Maybe they don’t either, but I think many do. I think many mothers do. I’m obviously a mother and it’s part of me and I love my child more than life BUT I define myself as Tamarah. Part of that is being a mother and a wife, but there is more. There is being a woman, being strong, being smart, being angry, being an animal lover, a scientist, a dancer, a friend. And somehow, in knowing who I am and holding onto it, I sometimes feel lost, because I wonder whether I was actually supposed to sacrifice being a Johnstone-Robertson to being a wife and being me to being Mom. Fortunately, when I talk to my best friend (my husband) about this, he looks confused and asks why I would do that.

So, in conclusion, I will be adjusting this here space. When I am here, I will be here as ME, not some airbrushed version of me. Me has many interests and I reserve the right to write about any of them as and when I please. Out with structure and target audience and niche market. Stream of consciousness, that’s my thing and I’m going with it.

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