After writing a few emotional posts lately, both “positive” then “negative,” I feel I must quickly get something down in this space that is positive again. Who will read a blog full of dreary memories, sad feelings and depression? Don’t we all need a lift in life?

I love authenticity in others, even when it is hard, but I can’t accept that I tend to lean toward the negative in my experience and perception of life. As a coping mechanism (and way to avoid being the neighborhood pariah), I have consciously perfected trivial optimism, engaging in positive talk, acknowledgement and effusive compliments for those I care about. I have also soared high with every whiff of positive emotion, clinging to the loft of it, blowing still more hot air into the balloon as I fly up into the heights of happiness, simultaneously running out of oxygen.

One of the guiding ideas of this mommess spot, is: if one woman tells the truth about her life, the world splits apart.*  I’m still reticent to tell the whole truth, and pretty much can’t fathom it.  This is part of the mystery of being a woman… it may not even be possible to tell.