At 6:38 am, my son’s big grin, bright blue eyes and blond bouncing curls started my early morning routine. Dylan appears ready to take on the world from the comfort of his crib. He looks up at my messy short hair, dragging my butt out of bed and trying to think before my morning cup of coffee. I am not a morning person, but I return his grin with a kiss on the cheek then pick him up out of the crib.
I make my way downstairs, change his diaper and wash my hands. He sees me go to the fridge for his bottle, warm it up and put some cereal into a bowl. There are many parts of my day where the routine repeats itself. This can be both comforting and monotonous at times. Those days where I struggle with the outside world or myself it is generally the former.
Those of you who subscribe to my blog may have noticed that it has been a while since I posted anything. There is an excellent reason for this. I have No inspiration. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada. Someone once told me that if you can’t find inspiration then write any way. Bad writing is better than no writing at all. This may be why writers spend so much time editing and revising. Can I dare to write the gritty details of being a stay at home mother who also has a rather messy mind?
Today was one of those days where I wish that I could shed my body like a snake’s skin and start off fresh. Well, we are at it I would also love to leave all my emotional baggage at the door. I would fill up the car, put my foot on the gas and never look back at it again. Am I the only person out there who has days where I can’t stand myself? The voice inside my head is so loud and fucking critical that I would love to do something drastic to shut her up.
There is much in my life that I see as blessings. It is difficult to enjoy life when you don’t feel that you deserve abundance, happiness, love, and health. I cannot tell you the exact moment where I went from a small innocent child who didn’t question that I was lovable. Are we all searching for that memory of wholeness? The self-help and new age sections in most book stores give evidence of that desire to return to a state of wholeness.
How does one even start the process of remembering or returning to wholeness? Can we ever be the same after trauma? I would argue no that one cannot be the same person after something happens to you. Experience changes who we are depending on how we choose to react to it. I wasted a lot of time mourning my former self. When I became a mother I grieved my old life before I had my son. We do have some connections that fade as our lives go through transitions. Motherhood can be a very lonely road to be on. We no longer have the community that we once had where children and mother interacted with one another on a daily basis in the same neighbourhood.
The feeling of isolation and alienation from the outside world pervades my days. My outlet for these thoughts are to write about them on my blog. I don’t even have faith any more that any of you are reading my thoughts. Do you ever feel this way yourself?