I woke up this morning to a home that looked like a nuclear bomb had exploded. I found one of my children asleep with the dog on the couch. I swore silently in my head because I knew it meant I would be doing a load of laundry this morning. Yes, I still have a child who wets the bed and he has been out of diapers for quite some time. I had been awake less than 10 minutes and already I was dreading the day.

I stumbled sleepily (and slightly grumpily) into the kitchen for my first cup of coffee only to find I was out of coffee. Yes, this day was starting out swell. I wanted to go back to bed, pull the covers back over my head and have just a few more minutes before this thing called life and motherhood hit.

As I laid there in my bed, coffee deprived and full of pity, I did what most self-deprecating moms do when they need another kick in the shin—I opened up Facebook.

I opened up the world that can almost be a paralytic for people trying to do this motherhood thing.

Social media can be that place where everybody’s life looks much more appealing than the one you are living. It can be the one place that reality is slightly skewed but can be covered up by a witty caption to go along with the flawless image now up in cyber space.

When I opened up the place that holds such a love/hate relationship inside me, I was surprised at what I began reading. Yes, there was the typical look at me . . . my life is perfect posts but there was a rawness I usually do not see. I saw women being real about their struggles in homeschooling, terrified they were screwing up their children. I read a post from a very talented and seemingly confident woman sharing the internal struggles of doubt and fear that almost crippled her daily. There was not a façade to anything I read.

 I saw real. I saw life. I saw honesty.

I said a silent prayer for the women out there who needed a little boost this morning. I realized I was not the only one feeling the pressures and there were worse things happening than me having to wash (yet again) urine-stained sheets from my son’s bed.

I stayed in bed for a little while longer, savoring the warm blankets that covered me. I took a long, deep breath and blew out any preconceived notions of grandeur I had placed on myself to accomplish for the day. To say I relished in others misery is not correct, but I did find a sense of peace knowing that in this big world, I was not alone.

When we lay it out all out there for others to read, it can be terrifying.

There is a vulnerability that comes along with being out in the open. There is a fear that your truth will fall on deaf ears and you will learn that it is just you. But we are not alone, sometimes the others are just silent and that is OK. It only takes one person to re-open a conversation, to reestablish a sense of hope and purpose. And often times, they do not even realize they did anything.

So, to the women who so fearlessly shared their hearts and not their opinions today as I scrolled through social media, thank you. To the moms out there embracing the season they are in without apology, thank you. To the talented and seemingly confident woman who shared her deepest fears of not being enough, thank you. To the people in my life that know I am a mess and still love me, thank you.

Thank you for your honesty.