Writing requires that I lose myself inside my own head. I need to sink into the spaces between the thoughts and drift there for a while.
Mothering requires that I remain in the moment, that I watch and listen and respond, immediately. A litany of cascading thoughts; we need butter, do we have any bread, baby needs a bottle, laundry needs hanging, what’s for dinner? My brain shoots ahead of me and I’m wiping benches, bums and noses in equal measure and not writing a thing.
This too shall pass. They’re only little, they’ll only be little for a short amount of time. One day I’ll be begging for them to snuggle me and tell me about the flowers.
I remind myself these things, as I keep myself busy and don’t think about the words sitting inside my soul, bubbling away from behind the dam in there.
One day, one day I will write and it will flow and I won’t feel like I’m being torn in half every time I drag myself back to reality.
One day, I won’t feel guilty for spending long moments inside my own mind, tasting the words and playing with them.
Soon, my gorgeous girl soon. It will be much sooner than you realize and then you will be middle aged and invisible and wonder where all the time went.
Yes, one day. It will come. In the meantime, . I don’t know. I wanted to put something helpful and meaningful in there but I can’t think of anything. I am anchored firmly in the moment – I think that’s why I find it difficult to put words down that are anything more than surface level.
Not really sure where I’m going with that, so in the meantime, listen to your mum!
It will come. It will. Especially if you stick to the two’s a charm theory. 😉
*hugs* sweety xxx
I agree with your mum.
Let the words fly around your imagination, they will flourish there and eventually when you have more time, they will be the better for it. If any of that makes sense, it does in my head but for me the words sometimes lack the clarity compared to the thoughts!
I do understand your frustration, if my garden had been big enough when mine were little I used to say to my oh that during those years that I felt I was losing my identity because their needs always had to come first, I needed a plate throwing area, like the Greeks do, to smash and throw. I don’t really believe mothers who claim never to have felt like you are now.
Time is on your side, and sooner than you think you will have the time. In the meantime, this writing is good too, part of the journey.
Dido!
Dodi
sorry – couldn’t stop myself.
Never feel guilty for escaping to yourself. You aren’t so bad.
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