Sometimes I ask myself why am I beauty blogging? Or even just simply blogging at all. I mean, I obviously don’t have the time. My photo shoots are done in between Sanji’s naps or while I’m preparing for work (which is honestly my only me time). The content here are written whilst on my 30-minute commute to work. None of these are thought out, conceptualized — whatever you call it in blogging terms.
Sometimes I wonder if I even have the capability of being a good mother. When Sanji gets on his tantrum mode (which happens a lot nowadays AND AT NIGHT), I frankly can’t help but scream because a) I don’t know how to pacify him and b) my attempts at appeasing him seem to only trigger more of his tantrums. I wonder if I’m bad for him. Because I know I’m a bad person. I am impatient and selfish and rude.
I doubt myself a lot nowadays. I’m neither where I want to be nor where I need to be. So I’m both unhappy and useless. Maybe that’s why I’m beauty blogging? Because I don’t need to think it out, like REALLY think it out. I slap on my face in the morning and I talk about how I slapped it on. Period.
Maybe I doubt myself a lot because I don’t receive some validation for what I do. I mean, I don’t think I receive validation. And I feel guilty for saying that out loud because I know Mario doesn’t see me as a failure. But see, I think love clouds his judgement. I’m nothing special.
I’m nothing special.
Maybe all I really need is to accept this. We’re all built to think that we’re something else — that the ultimate goal is to stand out. But maybe we’re wrong? Maybe the ultimate goal is to blend in, find an anchor and sway with the crowd. Maybe this is why so many people are desperate because in a planet with this much inhabitants, how can one tiny being stand out, really.
So maybe what I REALLY have to do is love the normalcy, the tiny in-betweens, the alwayses. Maybe we don’t really have to be the best parent or sister or lover. Maybe we don’t always have to think out everything. Maybe we don’t always have to be good.
Maybe I can just be my own, very real mediocre me.