As a mummy and a basically good human being, I have come to accept that I’m not perfect. Although I never stop trying; only it makes me sad when I just don’t get things quite right. The truth is I suffer from OCD (only very slightly) but it’s very real. I never really noticed I had it before, I just thought it was a mummy thing. Little things like making sure the children go to bed in matching Pj’s, making sure that the duvet matched the pillowcase, making sure they have a clean uniform for school every day.
It’s all really normal isn’t it?
It’s when it comes to my passion, my writing that’s when the OCD really comes into its own. Writing is the one thing I thought I was good at, Ok grammar may not be my strong point, but I know what I want to say and most of the time I will just come out and say it. I tend to over edit my work and that’s when it loses its point.
That’s why today I decided to come clean, and just let my fingers do all the work. I’m just going to be honest about my feelings and my fears.
From a really young age the only thing I was good at was writing. I would spend all my pocket money on Journals and then spend days in my room just writing down stories. I was a bit of a recluse when I was younger, but that mainly came from not really knowing who I was. I had a lovely family; it was always busy in our house with four little sisters. It was down to me to watch out for them, so I never really had any proper time to make friends of my own, apart from school friends. That was until I was about 11 when I met my best friend in the whole wide world Mel.
We were like sisters, we loved most of the same things, well she loved Bros I loved Football (nearly the same) but she taught me the most valuable lesson in life. That no matter what people thought of me, I was loved and I could be anything I wanted to be. Sadly we moved away from the area and I lost touch with Mel, but I made lots of new friends. Most of them I am still friends with now and I love them dearly.
You see in school I was, well a bit of a nerd. I wasn’t clever, beautiful or funny I was just me, I had a mixture of friends from the clever ones, to the beautiful ones. I only ever said hi to them passing in the corridors. My real friends accepted me for me, the dorky one who one day wanted to be a writer for a top magazine or newspaper. In reality I really wasn’t clever enough.
So from leaving school, I went to work in a very small office. I would spend my days day dreaming that I worked for a newspaper, I would spend my lunch break reading the papers and re typing my own news features on an old typewriter. Until the bosses son caught me one day and made fun of me in front of the whole office. I was a joke and my dream slipped away, well actually I put them away forever.
Until last year when I made a massive promise to myself that I would become a writer, even if people thought I was a joke. It was my dream and no one had the right to take it away from me. So I started studying from home, unfortunately the college that offered the course was not recognised by the NCTJ. I had wasted a whole year, or had I?
In the meantime I had become a blogger, I didn’t have a clue if I was doing it right and to be honest, I didn’t actually think I was very good. Until one day someone left me a comment about how I had made them laugh. ME I had actually made someone laugh, it was all good until someone close (well their hubby) had decided to leave me a comment which he thought was funny. My confidence crashed again, but speaking to a Journalist friend she made me realise that being a Journalist meant that sometimes people would love what I do and other times people will hate what I do and I couldn’t please everyone all the time. Confidence was everything, I don’t have much of it and I wobble from time to time but I always find my way in the end.
This past 12 months has taught me a lot; people come into our lives for a reason. This year I can say I have made friends with some of the nicest Journalists, writers, bloggers and mums ever. They have given me some good advice and guidance. I never want any of them to ever leave my side. You see I may not be the greatest writer in the world; I may never work for a glossy magazine or Newspaper, I may never even get my own Column.
I just love what I do and that’s me stripped bare, you can love me or leave me (please don’t). This year I have promised myself that things will change, I will grow in confidence, I will learn from my mistakes and I will become a published writer.
So please bear with me, I will have good and bad days, I will cry and be expecting hugs and most of all I am counting on all you to give me a massive kick up the bum as and when is needed.
Lots of Love