My name is Heather and I'm a recovering blogaholic

I used to read mommy blogs the way that other women read erotic novels.  I had a problem and I don't mind admitting it (now).  I would pour over words that other moms wrote and then use them as measuring tapes for how I was doing as a mother.  (For the record?  I usually decided I was coming up short. Failing miserably. Most likely to send their children to therapy first.) But I couldn't stop. The addiction of punishing myself with their words and stories and beautiful photos was one that was damaging and yet strongly drew me in day after day.

I was so sensitive to how many places I wasn't 'doing it right', that each word, every birthday party photograph, each recipe to save my family tons of money while also nourishing their growing bodies felt like a personal affront to my mothering style.

I don't read blogs much anymore.  Not because I don't like them, but because I all too often dive in head first and find myself writhing in physical pain because I have never given my children a themed birthday party with colorful balloons and a catered cake.  The pinterest laced craft ideas that mock my feeble attempt at engaging my children with art are everywhere these days, and for me?  the best choice is to not engage.  Essentially I'm a mommy-blogaholic, and the best remedy for that is to abstain.  I do however, read Momastery.  Her raw honesty, admission of mess and struggle, and ability to laugh at herself connects me to her at a soul level.  I'm absolutely sure we could be the best of friends if she would let me come and sit at her feet while soaking in her common-sense knowledge.
She had a post recently that has stuck with me and brought some freedom into my heart.  She wrote this and you really need to go and read it.

She talks about how other women aren't 'parenting at us'.  Let that sink in for a moment.  Other women are not parenting at us.
Roll that around in your heart... start to fill in the holes with other ways that that applies...
That other woman? The one wearing the amazing dress that you would secretly love to wear but feel too tall, fat, skinny, old, young.. fill in the blank- she is not wearing that dress at you.
The room mom who likes to make fancy cupcakes for every holiday known to man, and bring in special origami valentines that she and her first grader slaved over is not crafting at you. The career mom who manages to not only work an amazing job but still be the den mother for boy scouts is not den mothering at you. 
The teenage girl with the skinny body whose shorts show a little too much... ahem, muscle, is not being beautiful at you. (well, maybe she is, just a little) The point is, we all too often take our own insecurities, struggles, and mess and use them to paint across everyone else and absorb that negative junk back into our hearts in such a way that affirms to us that we are not enough.

Not enough.
Not.....kind enough. skinny enough. smart enough. gentle enough. beautiful enough. tall enough. stylish enough.  we paint everyone else with our 'not enough-ness' and then treat them as the enemy... instead of confronting the lies we're telling ourselves.
Isn't is easier that way?  It was for me.  It was easier for me to think that other women were homeschooling at me rather than to be vulnerable enough to admit that I was choosing not to homeschool because it didn't work for me.  It's easier to get angry at all the other moms or women who appear to be living closer to the expectations we had for ourselves, and press the disappointment of life into their choices rather than to sit in the reality of the life we are living.

I'm becoming freer and happier as I am beginning to be able to live in this reality.  I took two of my children to Awana at church this evening. (Sort of like scouts- but at church) And was laughing on the phone with a friend as I told her that for us?  Showing up with our supplies was a win.  Other moms work hard to help their children learn the memory verses for the week, and read the stories nightly to them before tucking them in... these children are receiving patches for their hard work and memorization skills.  I laughingly asked my friend how I could get the patch for just being there. Showing up. Wearing matching shoes.  For my family, in this season, that is a great feat.  That's my reality.  The mothers who are working nightly with their kids to help them memorize the weekly verses aren't doing that at me... they are doing the best job they can... inside of their reality.
When you begin to see that each of us is doing the best we can.. at that moment.. with what we know and what we have to work with in the way of skill and giftings.. you stop thinking everyone is living at you and begin to see how much freedom you have to live in your present reality with the grace you are provided in your own circumstances.  The post Glennon wrote has singed my heart.  The message went down deep and has allowed me to laugh at myself and the complete pridefulness it exposes as I start to recognize how much I can make it about me.  The irony is that freedom is allowing me to be a better mother.  The headspace I was renting out to lies is now free to be inhabited by grace.  And that is where I want to be.