Time is a rare commodity in my life, as it is in the life of most women with children. I always seem to be time poor, rushing from one thing to another, often needlessly. I think that the rythm of my life, or perhaps my personality rhythm is just fast and rushy and I find myself foisting this particular habit onto my wee girl, as I did this morning. The reason for this unreasonable bustling and hassling was because today is my once weekly day off. I look forward to and long for my day off from being a mom, especially recently when we have been having a more challenging time with our beautiful girl. (Let’s just say 45 minute screaming tantrums in the middle of the night and an abject refusal to sleep in her own bed (with one of us – never alone) and leave it at that). This combined with the inevitable tiredness and cumbersome physicality that comes with pregnancy, puts a damper on my enthusiasm to do anything and makes me long for some peace. And don’t even get me started on the recent and absolutely unbearable heat. Anyway, I digress.
The problem with this much anticipated time to myself is that I can’t settle into it in any truly nourishing or satisfying way. When I’m with Beanie, I’m dreaming about all the things I’ll do with my bubbit free time. When she’s safely in the loving arms of her Nanna, I come home and do buggar all. Mostly I retire to the bedroom, watch movies, read and eat chocolate. I feel the need to achieve more with this short precious time slot and it irks me that I’m too tired and unmotivated to do more with it. I have all of these projects waiting for some attention. I have creative pursuits I want to get into. I have things that I want to at least give some thought to and yet…and yet. I do nothing. Now, one might argue that it’s nourishing to do nothing sometimes and I agree. Nothing is good when you are constantly busy and overstretched – which is how mothering often makes me feel – and it’s not a bad thing in and of itself. And last week I watched three movies back to back (extravagant I know) while I sewed a friend’s daughter a lovely green and white stripey sock monkey (it took me all day to do it – I’m so terribly slow!). It turned out great (I called him ‘Minty’) and her daughter loves it, but for some reason I feel like I should be achieving more. Today? Nuttin’.
I visit blogs like ‘Angry Chicken’ and ‘Soulemamma’ (not to mention a whole host of non professional crafty bloggers) and feel terribly slack. These women have all got children, often more than one, and yet they get stuff done. Stuff that must make them feel productive and creative and useful. And it’s not just crafty stuff (because I am somewhat new and therefore handicapped in this area as yet). It’s doing things that are good for body and soul like yoga and pilates and meditation. I want to do it. I dream about the benefits and how good I will feel if I do do it and yet, I don’t. I slob around in bed getting fatter and more pregnant and feeling more and more tired while a whole host of things I dream about, gather dust on shelves. Why is this? Is this just not the time for doing but for sitting? I know. I know. I shouldn’t compare myself to anyone else, but then, where does inspiration come from? I am inspired by these women. I am in awe of their time management skills when I can barely muster up enough energy to eat an icy pole.
And yet, even with the sitting, there is no stillness in it. There is a constant feeling of restlessness in me that makes me irritable and frustrated with everything. I cannot drop into anything even slightly resembling a peaceful state. I would love to go to sleep but can’t. At the moment sleep is another rare commodity around here. Our nocturnally wakeful daughter sees to that. Plus bloody pregnancy hormones and the whole PND shennanigans make sleeping difficult. Bah!
And so. I am here. Trying to empty this itchy uncomfortable energy out of my body and onto the page. Seeking answers as always. Seeking, more than anything, comfort. Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. I want peace. I want to feel comfortable with where I am at. With who I am. With what is yet to come. And I want to feel like I have a purpose in this life. I know raising a healthy, well adjusted child is a purpose but, I’m sorry to say, this does not fulfill the heart and soul of me. It is, on it’s own, not enough. It is a good purpose and a heartfelt one and I am doing my very best to mother her well and find the journey in it all, but I need something that is just for me. Something that gives ME a sense of purpose and development. Something that feeds the creative in me and let’s me know that I won’t die with my music still in me. Because right now, I am stagnating.
Oh happy, happy post.
Sorry about that.
There are things to be grateful for. I know. I am aware of them too. It’s not a question of not being grateful. It’s a question of knowing that I am fulfilling my innate potential and I have always felt that I had/have great potential, if I only knew what for. I guess that the journey isn’t it.
Well, would you look at that. Time for bed already.