I am bummed. I don't know if it's just one of those things, one of those weeks, I don't know what's really going on.
But I feel tired, and empty, and bored, and boring.
I almost never write about "things" when I feel this way, but I should. So I am going to just try to complain and grump without worrying about this post. Otherwise I might turn it into a cheesy pep talk, as is my tendency, and I just don't feel like a cheesy pep talk right now.
My gripes?
- I am not exercising my body or my mind.
- I am not reading anything. I am not reading anything (except for blogs, which are awesome, and I love, but I miss books, and my brain misses books).
- The few times I have tried to stretch, my kids jump on me wanting to play horsey or "Attack".
- The few times I have had 30 minutes when I could have done something, I've done nothing. The somethings I'm not doing? Going for a run, reading a book, stretching, brainstorming PhD ideas, writing a thoughtful blog post, cutting my toenails, napping... Instead I wash the dishes or fold laundry or check my email or catch up on blogs.
- I am not pushing myself to do anything challenging or substantial with this blog.
- I do not have any really close friends here. My one good friend, kind of by default though I love her anyways, is so caught up in her world-class stay-at-home mommy-ness that I can't discuss the things that are most angsting me out right now.
- What on earth am I going to do with my life? A Phd? When??? And a research topic would help, too.
- If kids only go to school for half-days in Argentina, does that mean that I or Macondo Papa can only work/study for half days? Until they are teenagers? If I'm honest with myself, can I really be happy with that? Can I do things? How can I reconcile my desire to be a present parent, and how that resonates with me, with my restlessness and feelings of what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life.
- Do I just need to be patient? Wait till the kids are a little bigger, until I am regularly sleeping through the night, until the Monkey is settled into daycare? Am I just in that in-between zone, when my baby is old enough to start to need me less and I am starting to want some more independence, but we're just not all quite there yet? Should I just relax and trust that in a year I will be more me, and my body and mind and future will still be there? Or do I need to take charge of my life, make some changes and start figuring out what comes next?
- Other moms read, they write thoughtfully, they enjoy social lives, they take care of their bodies, they study something or create beautiful things - all of this above and beyond the whole mom thing. I'm not talking about the supermom thing. I'm talking about being a whole person, and a happy person.
- I am at home with the kids all the time, but not doing anything particularly creative or stimulating or awesome-parent-y with them. Yeah, I pull out the plasticine, markers, coloured glue and all that. I read stories. When forced and nagged to, I pretend that my pterodactyl narrowly escapes attack after attack by the fearsome tyrannosaurus rex.
But I am not creating a magical childhood for them. Not most of the time. We don't go on many adventure walks, we don't do many projects, I am rarely the playful or resourceful parent I wish I were (that hurts so much to say, but I am trying really hard to be honest).
- Changing any of these things for the better will require energy, and I just don't have any. I am disappointed in myself.
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I have no idea how to finish this self-absorbed rant, but I am not going to do it by recognizing how much good fortune and beauty I have in my life and how it is really, truly quite a sparkly, wonderful life, despite my occasional bouts of gloominess. Okay?
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3 comments:
Other moms read, they write thoughtfully, they enjoy social lives, they take care of their bodies, they study something or create beautiful things - all of this above and beyond the whole mom thing. I'm not talking about the supermom thing. I'm talking about being a whole person, and a happy person.
It took me years and years and years to get to the stage where I had much space at all for anything, and it's only in the last two years or so that things have come right. I think it's a factor of age as much as anything. The children's age.
oh my word, this is not self absorbed. Not to me. This is/was my reality and I feel every word on this page. In fact, I was in exactly this funk when I found out I was pregnant again, and I freaking lost it. Because looking at the dark tunnel of more of the same terrified me.
So I took that list of all the stuff I wasn't doing and I ripped it up and I decided I clearly wasn't ready to read or exercise or do academics or art or write or do anything. I wallowed in the "I suck" for about two weeks until I was good and mad. Then I started reading a little before bed. I got up early and did a quick walk before the sleepless kid who'd robbed my nights for three years woke me. I found power in stealing moments for myself, for saying, "if I have to be exhausted, I'm going to wake myself up, damnit!" Academic ideas fell into my lap.
What I'm saying, and it was only for me, but the fighting in the depths of despair didn't help. I embraced the shitty, the self loathing. I didn't try to do the things on my list. I pouted. And when I was done with that, I was really done. Breath of energy and restorative anger. Not at myself. At the bullshit in my way.
Good luck. I agree with the comment above that part of it is just the kids' age. It's the isolation. It's the time of year. It's so many things you can't fight. So wallow for a while. Really. It'll bring the fight out of you.
--Been there before and will definitely be there again.
Oh thank you, Deborah and Naptime. I don't even know what to say - how about 'boo hoo'? Can't seem to stop crying, but I do find much hope and comfort in your words. I guess I will try to 'embrace the shitty' for now (why not?) and see how it goes.
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