As many of you have speculated, I have a confession coming. You’re right; I haven’t been myself.
And who is that?
My name is Andonia Schwartz, and I’ve been writing this mean-spirited blog for a few years now. It started when ... well, there are no excuses. I started it and couldn’t stop it. I’m a single mom who needs to provide for my daughter. With little to no childcare options and limited education and career experience, I turned to blogging. Sadly, I learned I could make more money with negative blog posts than positive.
There aren’t enough apologies for the feelings I’ve hurt, the other blogs I’ve trampled on, and the potential damage other hard-working bloggers have experienced at my hand.
I can say I’m sorry, but it’s not enough.
I will say, my product endorsements were truthful and I never falsely led an audience. If there is one thing I’m serious about, it’s recommending a worthy product, service, or company.
That being said, I often gave recommendations at the expense of others, and while companies and marketers have paid me to do it, I’m sick at my own self.
I’m revealing my real name in an effort to come clean, but I also hope you will respect my daughteras she had nothing to do with this. She’s an innocent child who needs to eat and get new winter boots every year. Again, no excuses, but that was the impetus.
I did what I thought was right, and yet, it was very wrong.
Recently, I met a blogger who taught me the true spirit of blogging. To see their love and affection for their online creation, it was like watching a parent care for a newborn baby. I felt that way a long time ago, and I’d like to find it again. While I don’t know what I will do with this blog, I know I aspire to be like this blogger.
Going forward (if this blog continues in some fashion), no other bloggers’ names will be mentioned. I’d love to take this in a new direction—unabashed opinions on products, travel services, and providers for moms, especially single moms.
All I can say is ... thank you for your readership and support.
— Andi (that’s what my friends call me)
165 Comments
Momma of Triplets commented:
Damn, you got yourself in a tizzy. They’ll be out with pitchforks before you can pee.
Daddy Two Shoes commented:
Hold your head up and reinvent yourself. Your voice is too good. BTW, are you still single?
As soon as I post this on Monday, I go for a run. It’s not my usual time to hit the pavement, and it feels odd.
After years of stringent routine, part of me is relieved to break free from the mold. The other part is already mourning my anonymity. I’m so paranoid, I feel like every passerby is looking at me. I know they’re not, but still.
I pull my winter cap a bit lower on my forehead and plow through the cold. Sweat beads above my lip and I lick it off, knowing it will be chapped later. It’s not like I have anyone to kiss, so who cares?
By the time I get home, the number of comments has tripled, and I throw caution to the wind and take a shower. A daytime shower.
With my hair freshly washed and dried, I sit on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand and ponder my future. The truth is, I don’t have a clue what to do. Apply for jobs? Start a new blog?
I’m deep in thought when there’s a knock on the door.
Leona greets me when I open it, and she barges in. “It’s been enough time. I let you sulk. It’s time to get the guy back.” Today she’s a cherry-bomb pop in red velour, lipstick to match.
“What is this?” She waves her hand up and down my oversized T-shirt and leggings with a hole in the knee. “How’re you going to get your guy back like this?” She shakes her head as she paces my living room.
“I’m not getting him back, Lee. He’s done, finished. Now it’s about making a life for Gabby and me.”
“Pffft, please. That man loves you and you love him.”
I drop onto the sofa. “I can’t do this today, Leona. Maybe tomorrow. Or never.”
“I’m taking Gabby tonight so you can have a cry fest. Tomorrow, we regroup.” She’s out the door before I can argue, the screen door slapping loudly.
