When I carved out this slice of the internet a little over two years ago, I had all of the ideas. Brimming with words- excited about sharing my perspective on the world. Motherhood. My life.
As I sit in this chair, pecking at these keys, I don’t possess the same amount of words. This is evident by the lack of a weekly post. I have examined the various reasons why- that’s what I do- over-analyze. What it boils down to: I’m not sure how to put it all into words. The last two years have held some pretty big changes- some of those changes are not occurring in my life, though they directly effect me and Moose. Is it my place to speak about them? How do I delicately and respectfully write about my experiences when they are tied to another?
It’s interesting, over the course of my life I have postured. Fanning my colorful feathers out to appear confident. Spoiler alert- I was not. I am just beginning to be. And with that transition, I have pulled those feathers closer to my side. An odd realization that with some confidence, I am also making friends with my fear. Fear of judgement. Fear of failure. Instead of ignoring the elephant in the room, I am making eye contact and trying to figure out what to do with it.
I forget how much this little space of mine helps me disentangle the cacophony of thoughts and emotions that swirl within my mind. I am flying by the seat of my pants, transcribing my thoughts as they coalesce- unlike past posts, I have no idea what I want to write. So we are taking this journey together. Welcome to the chaos of my mind.
When I had a baby- my angry sack of potatoes- I had a metric ton of thoughts on the subject. I had a distinct perspective that I wanted to share with the world- not for my ego, but in hopes of feeling less isolated in my experience. Mostly, my aspiration was to help one other parent feel less alone in their reality. This parenting business is not for the weak. But as Moose matured into more of a little man and less of a babe- and my life seemed to get infinitely more dramatic- I found my perspective dwindling. Frankly, I think I stepped back to basic survival. How does one create a dissertation on that?
At times, it feels like there are a million things to write about life with my sidekick and simultaneously none. The moments with him are awe inspiring and so fleeting. Unless he’s in a tantrum, those moments are not fleeting. How he has the ability to stretch a second to feel like an eternity is a special talent. But man, he also takes my breath away. Watching him put train tracks together on his bedroom floor is the equivalent of watching an elegant ballet company glide across a stage.
I guess this post is about getting my feet under myself. The last two and a half years have been home to a great deal of loss. Loss of a marriage. Loss of precious moments with my son. Loss of a best friend. Loss of myself. Concurrently, it has birthed beauty that makes me wish I could stop time.
I’m not sure what I’ll write about next. I do know that I have missed this- sorting my various emotional states via this medium- even if at times it has been rather theatrical. The reality of my mind can be a bit dramatic from time to time. Something my mini me has definitely inherited.
All in all, this little post was me knocking the dust from my boots. Facing the fear- self imposed word count minimums, terror of others’ reactions, that pesky voice in my head that whispers I have nothing to offer. I am throwing it all into the wind! Onward and upward, buttercup.