Sign up and get my FREE Modern Mum's Capsule Wardrobe Guide & Checklist. As well as exclusive promos, codes and post updates  

You are viewing Lifestyle

Why Am I Ashamed to be a Blogger?

By Posted on 26 5 m read

On a night out at a comedy club last weekend, the host was engaging with the audience around him, looking for someone to pick on. Sitting at the very front of the stage, I was an easy target. (It was my hen do for gods sakes I was an easy target for anything that weekend). Thankfully he started on other people that were closer to the stage but I knew it was a matter of time. As he talked and asked questions to the audience and poking fun at them I froze. Oh god! He is going to ask me what I do for a living?

Why am I ashamed to be a blogger?

You see I do not have a conventional job per se, though there are some that make a lot more money doing what I do than others in “conventional” jobs. In fact I work my butt off everyday to be able to one day be one of those people. But yet I am embarrassed. I am scared of what people are going to think. I am scared of being judged. What do I do? I am a blogger.

I have always been an ambitious person. The best advice I have ever gotten from someone was ‘Don’t rely on anyone else to look after you’. And that was what I did. I left Australia at the tender age of 19 and never looked back. I built a life and career from scratch all by myself, in a non-english speaking country and I am damn proud of that! But things changed.

I made the decision to follow my partner back to his hometown in Scotland which is predominantly run by the oil and gas sector. A beautiful country but career suicide for someone who works in the Fashion Industry. I can build a life and career again, I have done it before. I said feeling optimistic. And then I fell pregnant.

Made me feel like I was making a difference

 

Suffering from severe nausea I was forced to give up the job I had landed just as the oil and gas market plummeted. So I become a stay at home mum. The city that was once full of job opportunities had nothing to offer anymore. And people from difference sectors like myself were doomed. With my partner working offshore every month, my priority became my son and my life was consumed with baby. Check out my post about my struggle with PostPartum Healthy Anxiety

I love being a mum, but some people like me dream of more. Having always been independent I struggled with this new life. I used to want to conquer the world, but now I felt like my dreams were just far fetched fantasies. I had to do something. So to help me keep my feelings of inadequacy at bay I started blogging. It wasn’t much but it made me feel like a had a job again. Like I was working towards something. It was just a little piece of me that I could hold on to and make me feel like I was making a difference, even if it was small.

I could already see them rolling their eyes at me

So when my blog took off unexpectedly in January, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe that anybody was bothered to look at or read what I had to say. But it continued to grow. Could I actually do this full time? Could I make a job out of this? After doing some research I saw that lots of people make a living out of blogging and I felt a drive in me that I had not felt in a long time. So I started to take my blog a little more seriously.

Even though I was working a lot of hours, researching, writing and studying to understand this new world. Whenever someone would ask me what I did or if I was going back to work. I stumbled. How can I tell these people I am a blogger. They will laugh. I could already see them rolling their eyes at me, but why?

Society can be very judgemental

The thing is with blogging, is that people do not appreciate how much work actually goes into it. People see a few blog posts pop up a few times a week and they think it is just a small hobby you do when you have a bit of spare time. They don’t realise you spend hours a day brainstorming ideas, writing and editing photos. They don’t see that you have to learn about SEO, Web Coding and Online Marketing in order for your blog to be seen or to resemble something.

People just think you are sitting behind a computer ranting and posing for selfies. So I felt embarrassed to tell people what I was doing that I preferred to say I was a stay at home mum then to actually tell people that I’m a blogger. My feelings of inadequacy had taken over me causing me to feel ashamed of something I shouldn’t be. But I couldn’t help it. Society can be very judgemental and I didn’t want to be at the end of the judgement stick. What I didn’t realise was that by not standing up as a blogger I was contributing to this judgement and consequently letting myself and my fellow bloggers down.

They don’t realise you spend hours a day brainstorming

As difficult as it is I have decided to practise what I preach. I started this blog to give myself meaning and encourage myself and others to be confident in who they are. Regardless of what stage of life you’re are in. No matter what race, gender or sexual orientation. No matter what you do! (Hence the name ConfidentlyKylie, Get it?)

So for myself and for all my fellow bloggers, I refuse to be scared of what others may think. I won’t sit back and undermine the hard work we do. So the next time someone asks me what I do. I will be brave enough to say I am a blogger.

 

 

Why am I ashamed to be a blogger?

 

[amazon_link asins=’0241217938,1419722158,1520631979,B01907K7L0′ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’confidentlyky-21′ marketplace=’UK’ link_id=’3619c8b5-3327-11e7-b051-2141f716d820′]

SaveSave

Share this article

The Curse of Instagram: Let Go of Life Envy and Appreciate What You Have

It is so easy to get caught up in the seemingly perfect lives of others, that it can really distort reality and make you feel like you are missing out on something. I for one am one to speak openly about the everyday struggles I face as a mum or as a person in general. I often feel like I have given up apart of myself, my identity and personality. I am a stay-at-home mum and thats it. The fun, adventurous party gal exists no more. I have been taken up in this whirlwind of parenting and have forgotten who I was before.

Instagram Perfect Lives

I remember sitting at home while my fiancé was offshore, feeling sorry for myself. Scanning instagram, I had a pang of envy for some of my child-less friends. Their photos were amazing. Trips to Dubai, Hiking up mountains, Cocktails and dinner parties. Beautiful dresses and high heels. I envied them.

I wanted to do that. I wanted to feel alive again. Feel like I was more than I was, like I too was living the dream. I wanted to feel like I still had some mojo left in me. Every conversation I had now seemed to turn to my son and my life as a mum. Everytime I wanted to make plans I was automatically put into the boring mum pile. “We didn’t ask you out because we knew you have the baby to look after” “Next time we will drop by and hang at yours”. Noooooo I wanted to go out. I wanted to leave the house. I want to be me. Not mum.

 Grass is always Greener on the other side

However in all my anguish and self pitying, I had forgotten just how lucky I am. Sitting and having dinner with one of my beautiful and glamorous friends. I proceeded to marvel at her and tell her how I envied her life. I expected her to laugh it off and change the subject non chalantly as I would have done in the past. But she didn’t. Don’t take Instagram as real life she said. It isn’t. You know what you are missing, you have experienced my life whereas I haven’t experienced yours.

I was blown away. It never occurred to me that others could envy my life. Whaaaaat? My life? My frumpy mum bod barely get out of the house life? Days of being covered in snot and cleaning and re-cleaning the house over and over again? How could these beautiful women with their fun lives and amazing instagram pics ever look my way and feel they were missing something.

Just as I was pondering this I turned to find my gorgeous yet naughty boy slowly and sneakily trying to get hold of my iPhone. Noticing I was watching he cheekily smiled at me in the hopes it will deter me away from the fact that he has my iPhone. I laughed and my heart filled with love.

This is why I thought

I realised that amidst all my complaining and longing for a part of my previous life back, I had completely neglected the whole reason why I wanted to be a mum in the first place. The reason I get up in the morning with a smile on my face. I had completely neglected the fact that I gave birth to the love of my life.

It is easy to get caught up in the negative parts of life and compare ourselves to others. We always seem to see most vividly what is missing from our lives. But we hardly stop to look and appreciate the good things we have.

Each stage of life has struggles that we need to learn from. What you see on Instagram is only a fragment of peoples lives. You don’t see the boring parts. We don’t see their morning faces without make up or how many shots they had to take just to get that one perfect photo.

Appreciate what you do have

Despite my complaining about not feeling as glamorous and fun filled as I used to be. Nothing could make me want to trade my life as a mum. Despite the challenges motherhood brings, it is also the most rewarding job I have ever had. Nothing worth anything is free.

So when you start feeling life envy stop and look. Look around you and focus on all the good you have. All the amazing things you have achieved so far. You might not have reached your ultimate goal in life,  but you are probably already living the dream compared to others in the world.

Nobodies life is perfect. We just have to learn to focus on what we have instead of what we don’t. If something is lacking, then it is up to us to fix it and achieve the life balance we need.

So instead of complaining about my lack of a social life, I am taking action and  working to change it.

Night out anyone?

xxx

Let go of Life Envy and Appreciate What you Have

[amazon_link asins=’1544201176,1534965211,0755318471,1910536741′ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’confidentlyky-21′ marketplace=’UK’ link_id=’93dfa1fc-2608-11e7-b252-838e104b85ab’]

 

Share this article

Grieving at Easter: Not Everybody Rises From the Dead

Easter was always a time I dreaded when I was a teenager. It was a time that triggered memories that I did not want to remember. For years after my dads suicide, I couldn’t handle Easter. The very thought of walking into a supermarket and seeing the vast array of coloured eggs and easter rabbits would send me into an emotional spiral. I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to remember so I avoided it.

Grieving at Easter

One of the most vivid memories I had of my dad was his last easter with us. We were at our grandmas house and he was meeting us there for Easter with the family. I remember the chocolate easter bunnies he had in his hands. Especially the one that was for me. The long chocolate ears, the purple foil that had Cadbury written on it. I remember it.

I remember the little paper boxes he had made for us. One blue for my brother and the other pink for me. Both filled with little chocolate easter eggs, each wrapped in a different coloured foil.

This was why I hated Easter.

But here I am years on. Standing in a supermarket looking at Easter eggs for my own son. And it hits me. All those years as a teenager trying to suppress the memory had worked. I had forgotten all about it until i saw it. The design had slightly changed since but it was still the same. The purple foil, the brand Cadbury written on it. It was staring at me from the shelf as if to say Hey, remember me. And it hit me. It hit me like a fucking ton of bricks!

Over the years I had put up so many barriers to keep the memory gates closed. Everything was stacked up on those gates, you name it. Anything to stop them from opening. To stop the pain that came flooding in with those memories. I had been so good at locking that gate that I had forgotten a lot; I had forgot him.

My father committed suicide when I was 12 years old. I wish that I could say that I had been prepared for it given he had attempted it 6 times before, but I really wasn’t. I still remember being woken up by my mother in the morning to tell me my father was dead. I still remember the shock and disbelief. But I only spoke to him yesterday? Stupid naive Kylie.

The thing about suicide is that it rips you apart.

It rips everybody apart. Losing a loved one by any means is horrible, but suicide does irrevocable psychological damage to everybody involved. The pain doesnt end with the person dying, it lives on forever. People get angry and nasty in their grief, they point fingers and pass blame to try and understand it, to try and rid themselves of the guilt festering inside of them. It lingers at the back of everything you do, this cloud that seems to follow you everywhere. The what ifs, or should haves consume you. So I put up the barriers and refused to go to supermarkets at Easter.

It never occurred to me that one day I might need to remember. That one day I would not be angry. That I would miss him beyond anything else instead of hating him. It never occurred to me that I needed him, even if it was in spirit. And then I gave birth to my son. My little boy who would never know his Grandfather. My little boy who needed to experience the wonder and magic of Easter like every other child.

I stand here and have to ask myself. Why easter? Why do I get so upset at Easter instead of Christmas, or the anniversary of his death.  I have other memories that could torment me why this one? Maybe it is because we are celebrating the resurrection of a man who was once lost like my dad, except my dad isn’t coming back. He is not going to rise from the dead.

So here I am in the supermarket. Staring at a stupid chocolate bunny. As if that bunny ruined my life. As if everything is that bunnys fault.  A part of me wants to run away like I would usually do. A part of me wants to grab that fucking bunny and smash it against the wall. But I don’t. I am a mother now. My son needs happy memories. My son needs to know his Grandfather for who he was and not what he did.

So I grab that bunny and put it in my basket.

Happy Easter my beautiful boy, This bunny is from Grandpa

xxx

Follow me on FACEBOOK / TWITTER / INSTAGRAM

[amazon_link asins=’B00FVULTF4,1782116826,2226399313,184709158X’ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’confidentlyky-21′ marketplace=’UK’ link_id=’fc401480-2277-11e7-85b0-9d152efd55ba’]

dealing with grief as a parent

Share this article

Why you need a pre-wedding photoshoot!

With our nuptials fast approaching, it was time for us to book our pre-wedding photoshoot. Apart from not knowing what the hell I was going to wear and burning the side of my face with my freaking curling iron. I was feeling optimistic. 

Our house, that we have been living in for just over a year still needed work, and the idea of having decent photos to put up on the walls got me all excited. Yes this is what my life has turned into, I get excited about wall decor!

Besides the obvious perks of being able to decorate my house and get a decent family photo, we initially were not sure if we really needed a pre-shoot. Some photographers charge a few 100£ extra for if you request one so is it worth the extra cash? Do you really need one? My answer is yes and here is why

You build a rapport with your photographer before the big day.

why you need a pre-wedding photoshoot
Awkward Superman pose and awkward hand lol

The only time we had met Graham was when we enquired about his services and looked through his portfolio. It was very formal and to the point, we got the information we wanted, discussed prices and that was it.

Our pre-shoot gave us an opportunity to get to know Graham on a personal level and for him to know us. The hour and a half we spent with him broke all barriers and I now feel 100% comfortable knowing that he will be present while my bridesmaids and myself are getting ready the morning of. Something I was nervous about previously.

You practise how to pose together without looking awkward

This was really important to me. So many photos of Lee and I look ridiculous. We pose for a photo and end up looking like two rigid stick figures awkwardly hugging each other. I did not want this on our wedding photos. When you are paying thousands of pounds for a photographer you want to look good. You want someone to guide you and teach you how to stand and where to put your awkward hand so that you do not look like a total loser. Though we had some awkward laugh out loud moments, we learnt what poses best suited us, and what definitively did not! LOL

You have photos to use for websites or wedding invites

Even though we had already sent out all of our invitations, getting a pre-shoot is a good idea for when you wish to use a photo of yourselves on your invitations or wedding website. It makes everything look more professional when the photos are fab and of good quality. If only I could remember how to edit our wedding website…….

You know what to expect!

You have an opportunity to have a sneak peak at what it will be like on the big day. You will be surprised at how quickly time passes when it is just you and your partner; so imagine what it will be like with your bridal party and guests will be present. Doing this shoot helped us to see how much time is needed and with the help of Graham we adjusted our schedule on the day accordingly. Now we know what to expect, we will be less flustered and will have more time to relax and enjoy our day with our guests.

Here are some snippets of our shoot

why you need a pre-wedding photoshoot  

  1. We had just had to awkwardly kiss and couldn’t stop laughing. 2. Gabriel stealing the limelight 3. That boy is so heavy, my arms was breaking. He loved it though

 

why you need a pre-wedding photoshoot

 

Share this article

Importance of self-care: How I became a frumpy mum without even realising it

When I was pregnant, I said to myself that I would never let myself go. That I would live a life relatively similar to the life I had pre kid. That I would always look after myself. I vowed not to fall in to the frumpy mum cliché. I didn’t want to be a frumpy mum, I wanted to be a yummy mummy. I wanted to continue to be young and fun despite having kids. I wanted to embrace my sexuality and be confident in my body. The body that gave me my beautiful baby.

The thing that I failed to realise at that point was that no one ever wants to be a frumpy mum. No one wakes up thinking I want to look like a sewer rat. I want to look like I haven’t slept in years. I want to have a wardrobe that makes a potato sack look fashionable. But despite my intentions, I found myself turning into said frumpy mum and it happened gradually without me even realising it.

Being a parent is so fricking tiring. It really is and all the things that were so important to you before or no longer as important. Those of you who do not have kids will read this, smile and nod and think that you understand. But you really do not. It is impossible to understand how tiring and self-sacrificing raising a small child is when you do not have a child constantly stuck to one body part or another. I thought that I understood before, now I realise I knew nothing.

As you get used to your new role as a parent, you slowly get accustomed to putting yourself last. The babys needs always come before your own and then little by little all these other things creep in and take precedent in your list of priorities. The laundry, groceries, planning and cooking the family meals, trying to earn a living. Until when you actually get down the list to yourself, you just don’t have the strength or the motivation to do anything.

That hair appointment that is long overdue, gets pushed back again. That monthly eyebrow wax, turns into a quick tweeze or nothing at all. My once much loved passion for shopping, turned into shopping for my baby and me telling myself I would go back for myself when 1. Lost some weight 2. Had more time 3. Could be bothered. Until one day you pass yourself in the mirror and you no longer recognise who is looking back at you.

Today I had that moment. That realisation that after a year of pushing back schedules, I had become what I had vowed not to. My overgrown hair was now flat to my head with no shape or body. I hardly styled it and it was either in a quick ponytail or mum bun. My eyebrows resembled caterpillars on my face, I don’t even want to talk about other parts that needed grooming. My clothes were the same crap clothes I had bought when I was pregnant. When I told myself these will do for just a few months until I get myself back together.

How I became a frumpy mum without even realising it

As I stared at the person I didn’t want to be I glanced over at my future husband. There he was freshly shaved, wearing his new smart jumper and blazer, freshly cut and styled hair ready to hit the town with the lads. And I suddenly felt ashamed. I looked at myself and hated myself for what I had become. I was disgusting. That fashionable, adventurous woman he had met in Paris was now a dull plain mother in yoga pants. How did this happen? Why the hell does he still want to marry me? But my disgust quickly turned to anger. When was the last time I got to go out with the girls? When was the last time I even had the opportunity to dress up?

I look back over the last few months trying to pinpoint the time I gave up on myself. I couldn’t. It really was gradual. At the start I would always style my hair after washing, then one day I didn’t have the time. I was in a hurry. We had a baby class that we had to get ready for, Gabriel was being difficult and I was stressed and panicked about being there on time and I didn’t style my hair. I just left it. And then the habit begun. It was easier. Jump into the shower quickly and jump out, then start doing all the other things on my to do list.

Slowly my neglected hair turned into comfy easy clothes, then weekly beauty rituals being ignored and then my makeup. I usually never left the house without my tinted moisturiser, mascara and a bit of liner and gloss. Now I would rush out the house with nothing on. It become convenient. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I did it once because I was in a hurry and stressed, then a second time until eventually it became the norm.

So I picked up the phone and scheduled a hair cut. I sat there staring at myself in the mirror. Who are you? And then walks in this beautiful, immaculate woman. She is in her 40s and she is stunning. Hair on fleek, make up on fleek, everything on fricking fleek!!! As she styles my hair she proceeds to tell me she is a mother of 3, and after that I don’t know what she said. I zoned out. I wanted to shoot my self in the foot. A mother of three!! She has three fricking children at home but looks like a goddess. She nurtures herself. Takes time for herselfSomething that I haven’t done, and I realise this is all my fault.

As mothers it is our instinct to nurture our babies and those around us. But one thing we are guilty of, and I know it is not just me, we forget to nurture ourselves. It may feel like it is not that important to skip these little times for yourself because you have so many things to do. But in the long run, it is important. How can others respect you when you don’t respect yourself?? When you look good you feel good, and when you feel good, well everything is good.

So ladies, don’t turn into me. Take some time for yourselves. Your baby will be fine. The dishes can wait but realising you have turned into a frumpy mum way before your time will scar you like it did me.

 

xxx

 

[amazon_link asins=’B01H3YC1UC,B0149K89UY,B00JF9XIQA,B00LW29YIE’ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’confidentlyky-21′ marketplace=’UK’ link_id=’7177e6e9-1d03-11e7-ae44-9dbd08beb744′]

 

 

No tags

Share this article