BREAD

Allow me to begin these ramblings by telling you that I am so over pleasing people. Yes, that includes you, my dear reader.

It’s been over a month of not being on social media, of not sharing my life with strangers who may or may not have kind things to say about me, my cooking, or my girls. And guess what? I didn’t die. Nope, it wasn’t a digital detox. I was there. I am there.

Breads from @deliciousloaf on Instagram

I still know who broke up, who constantly needs validation, and who’s still drowning in toxic positivity.

So what happened, you ask? Hmm… I really, really wanted to tell you, but that would mean asking you to pay me, because that little story would require me to bare my soul. And we both know we can’t afford that, can we?

But okaaaaay—since you’re already here, and since I know you don’t want to waste time reading another woman’s nonsense narrative, here goes nothing.

I’ve been sick. High-functioning-mother level sick. Thank heavens it wasn’t dextrose-in-the-hospital sick, but it was flu on week one, migraine on week two, then colds, then cough, and before I knew it, a whole month passed without me feeling even 80% okay.

And while it’s okay not to be okay, weeks of not being “out there” also mean weeks of not earning. Content creation while you’re going through something is a whole different beast. Honestly, my guts are twisting even now as I drearily type these worries away. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want you to know me. I don’t want my kids to grow up thinking that their mother’s worth depended on how many strangers double-tapped her existence. I don’t want them to measure joy in views or validation in comments. I don’t want them to inherit this exhausting need to be “on” even when everything inside is begging to power down. 

I have a whole list of reasons not to show up as the Kween Foodie Momshie you know and yet… here I effing am.

A mother’s got to do what she’s supposed to do. I guess preparing breakfast and packed lunch for the kids isn’t enough. Making sure they go to school fresh and healthy is apparently just the bare minimum. Noticing every tiny change in our growing kids doesn’t even count as “real” caring, either. And on top of everything most mothers already do for the family, we’re also expected to have our own money.

You know that infamous Pinterest line every white mom has in her kitchen—live, love, laugh? Real talk: you don’t get to do any of that if you don’t have money.

So for the time being, there is a digital world where I exist. Humor me.