I imagine a different life from time to time. I imagine a bank account with many zeroes. A larger house. Curtains that match. Walls that are painted with one swish of an arm.
I imagine nooks and crannies elegantly decorated for comfort, inviting me to read a book with my children. Floor pillows I’ve had the time to sew. Meals homemade and nourishing–like my sister knows how to do.
But it is a different life I lead right now. Rushed and harried. But not forever. And I am not alone.
Some days are calm and flow with me. I can swallow my fears and my frustrations. I can glean fortune in the rays of the rising sun.
Some days are more bleak. I wander aimlessly–picking up toys and tossing dishes to the sink–waiting for a sign. For a path. For a saving voice inside my head.
And it comes. It’s there as I’m smoothing the sheets and tucking the corners under. As I’m laying the comforter and straightening the pillows. It tells me to push back against the dark. Move forward. Ask for more. Be satisfied with less.
And I will. And I do. And it is okay that today I am worn. Tattered and soft at the edges. My children, my emotions and my life make it so. Ragged like a favorite quilt. I hope this is me. I hope to blanket the past with my own purpose and personality. With the ways I am needed and the giving I have inside of me.
My moods are always changing. There is fighting on one day and sweet surrender on another. And I am strangely comfortable here. With knowing this is life. My life. With knowing I am ever rushing up, up, up and slowly cascading back down.
The only part of life that is a steady stream is the living itself. Not the actions or the reactions. Not the expectations nor surprises. It comes in waves. All of it. Life. My life. Like a waterfall.
I am grateful for this waterfall. For this life I lead. For these children and their cherub faces. For the noises they make and the smiles they spread across my face. Today is just another day. So cold, cold, cold outside. So warm in my heart.
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Lovely, lovely evocation of the ever-changing experience of life – motherhood – personhood. Some days smooth, some days ragged, always varied, always changing. Why is it that I am so aware of the fact that things will change shortly when I’m in a peaceful moment, and unable to believe that the light will come when I’m in a dark place?
Your words help remind me of that truth.
Thank you.
How did I know a post was brewing after I read your email? This is good stuff, because it’s raw and sweet at the same time, just like the lives we lead.
This is what I mean by productive. You draw yourself up and push forward without allowing the screaming or the whining or the inadequate feelings to throw up barriers. You don’t — can’t — stop to feel sorry for yourself or to create a dream world. You have to swim through the rough parts and float on the calm parts. And one day you’ll realize you made it.
So perfectly put. Some days I’m drowning in the undertow and some days I just slice through and feel magical.
Glad you had a good one today. Store it up for, as you know, these days need to feed us on the undertow days.
Yes. Drowning–Undertow. Slicing Through–Magical. So perfectly put, Nap. And long time no see. How are you?
It’s funny because I wrote this yesterday from work. I think it would have meant even more if I had written it amongst the chaos that is my house. But still, it lifted me. And when I returned home I wasn’t annoyed by the fighting and the bathtime/bedtime antics of my children as I usually am.
Oh, and a fluffy new puppy doesn’t hurt, either.
You mean I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a bank account with many zeroes or a husband who refuses to stop wearing my fancy, pretty underwear? I’m KIDDING.
Lovely post…
You? Are fun-fun-funny. Thanks for making me chuckle at 6:56 am. It’s too early. I’m damn tired. And I’ve already asked the 2.5 yo to stop yelling and whining like 15 times. I vow, however, to slice through the undertow that tries to pull me down (as Nap so wonderfully referred to it) and make today a good one.
Loved this.
Thanks, Barb! Longtime no see! Happy New Year to you and yours!
Life is a roller coaster tossing us about with emotions and sharp turns. If only I enjoyed being hung upside in a state of peril.
I should enjoy it and embrace it knowing that the unbearable moment will soon pass leaving me with the exhilaration of making it through the loop.
Beautiful post, again.
I am certainly guilty of imagining a different life from time to time…ok, every other day. Escapism comes in many forms for me…reading, writing, staring off into space, but sometimes with fantasy…fantasy that I am far away, sun-soaked, carefree, or just burdened with different cares than the ones I have now. Somehow, that’s appealing. Realistically, I know the grass is not always greener elsewhere, but yeah…totally know where you’re coming from.
Yeah. Grass. Greener. I hear you.
We all know this–deep down. But still we wish. Escape. Fantasize. Dream.
On a weekly basis I’m sure that some ONE THING will make life easier, happier, or better in some way. I fixate on it. And then life changes. I change. The kids change. And I let it go, picking up some OTHER thing the following week.
Inner peace: I’m working toward it. On most days, I’m happy to say, I think I have it..or some version of it anyway.
How beautifully written. And so so true! Thanks for sharing.
While I have no words of wisdom, your writing – as usual – has moved me.
this is really beautiful….
im adding you/following you
Thank you, Christina. Thank you.
And a happy, happy New Year.
Fighting and bleeding one day and warm heart the next, huh? Amazing what motherhood is, isn’t it?
It’s unbelievable, isn’t it? The juxtaposition of moods and emotions from day to day, from moment to moment. It is what exhausts me. But then, I’m happy for it at the same time. The ever-moving ups and downs of my life, often too quick for me to even take pause. But this is what the blog allows me to do: pause. And thank goodness for that. And for all of you who respond.