Out of the Fog

I feel as though I am slowly and carefully raising my head out of a fog that it has been in for two years, and am assessing the landscape around me.  Much as, I would imagine, after a battle, or an earthquake.  But the landscape has changed.  I have changed.  I want things to be the same, I want to be the same old me.  But neither of those things can happen.  My world has changed.  I have changed.  For the better, I hope.  I am certainly richer for some of my experiences:  cub scouts, my changed relationship with the favouritest girl-child, international travel, my new course, and yes, even my time with him.

I have discovered a rich womanhood that hadn’t existed before.  I have faith that it will come back again, but that is not a priority right now.  Often I feel like I don’t know who I am, but sitting and writing today, I feel like I know myself in a stronger, richer, more intimate way.  I may not have all the answers, and I may not have gotten this motherhood gig right, but if I’ve learnt nothing else, I now know what I don’t want, either from relationships, or parenthood.  I harbour a renewed confidence in myself as a parent, even though the landscape has changed.

I miss time.  Time to just be.  Not to have to run to the next activity, to be a leader, or a chauffeur, or a girlfriend.  I can sit and relax on this fine Saturday afternoon and write my thoughts out clearly.  They are not obsessing my head.  And I’m not trying to drown them at the bottom of a bottle.

And fancy, this very thing that I now crave and love, is the very thing I needed to fill, or dispose of, in the beginning.  I thought relaxing weekends with nothing to do needed to be filled, so I filled them with scouts, and the associated friends, and camping, and him.  Now none of that sounds bad or unhealthy, but it was just more than I could cope with.  Tipped me over the edge, so to speak.

Mind you, I don’t want to fill this void now with silent introspection, because that to could do my head in.  Today, I accept that I can cope with only three things:  my favouritest boy-child, my home, my job.  If the favouritest girl-child ever comes home, I will struggle with that.  But I will cope.  With my new-found skills.  But that moment hasn’t come, and may never, so I don’t need to worry myself about that today.

Before I found the 13 statements, I wrote my own, and I have faith that I am a strong and spiritual mother, believing in how I raise my children.

I feel free.  My head is not pounding with the stress or the oppression.  I’m going to enjoy the rest of my Saturday.

Thank you!