It has been so long since I’ve felt like myself, let alone
had the urge to write. Like a button
without a switch, it shut off and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out
where it had gone. But today, I literally jumped back into myself.
Before I get to that, let me back up.
To say I’ve been busy is an understatement. I mean we have
three kids, and we just moved to a new city, so the google mapping alone has
pushed my brain and writing quota over the top.
The kids are having a tough time adjusting. Nothing out of the ordinary for kids who were
uprooted and trying to grow accustomed to a new school, a new home, and no
friends to call on next door. I have no
worries that they will find where they fit and excel. Both of the older kids already have a few
friends at school, and with sports and activities they are constantly making
new friends. But, in all the time I
spent helping them get settled, staying positive when they were crying, and
organizing the new house, I had kinda forgotten that there was a person that
hadn’t had any energy spent on them. In
a shocking turn of events, it was me, mom and wife. I realized I was running below empty. On fumes, unhappy, accidentally teary, fumes.
Part of it was that I spent the majority of my day inside my
house with a three-year-old with a propensity to watch bizarre toy videos on YouTube
(especially in Cantonese for whatever reason) and no real desire to sit and
talk about world events, politics, or the fact that I finally found hummus that
I like. Which, was pretty monumental for
someone who has developed the level of hatred for the chick pea that I do.
I haven’t written in so long I was starting to despise the
look of my laptop on my new desk in the bonus room. It overlooks the pond we live at, it is
always plugged in, and it is the perfect situation for me to sit down and get
to business. I have a manuscript with edits done by an award winning writer, that I haven’t touched.
Isn’t that crazy?!? I mean I’m currently a stay at home mom
with aspirations to be a full time writer and there, sitting two feet away was
a very real document I could work on and enhance and instead I hit ‘continue
watching’ on Netflix. Over, and over
again.
Not to say I spend my days watching TV. Oh my god I wish I could. Mostly I am in a minivan driving my three
nuggets all over. I spent the last six
weeks, since we moved, driving the kids to camps, clinics, parks, vacations, and
whenever I pulled back into town, I never really felt like I was headed home. Under all of the weight of trying to get
everyone else to settle in and embrace our new city, I had far from done the
same.
This isn’t my first rodeo, this certainly wasn’t the first
time I’ve moved, and not even the first time I have moved with kids, so I
couldn’t put my finger on where the lag of acclimatizing to my new home was. And then it hit me like the waft of super
strong cologne on the boys in middle school.
This was the first move that had me coming to a new city in
exactly the same time I was coming to a new part of my life. The part where
there are no babies to be had, there are no mat leaves after working at a job I
only sort of cared about, there was no more automatic out and time back at home
with a newborn. This was real life. And pretty soon, like within two years, I was
supposed to get a REAL job in my real life that I actually cared about.
And oh my god I feel totally unqualified to do
anything. I mean I caught myself
watching the girls at Starbucks making my coffee in between refilling coffee
jars and I thought.. wow. I don’t even
think I would know how to do that.
What happens to a mom, and a wife who has moved around all
of her post university life whilst pushing out babies, when there is no more
pushing out babies to be had? How do I come to terms with a future where I
could actually find work somewhere fulfilling?
And… would I? Is there something out there for me? I mean my most recent
job was as an Executive Assistant where I basically tended to all
administration needs (sometimes super crazy) of a director and board and helped
write grants. My job was essentially being
a mom on steroids. Most days I felt like
I took care of everything and helped with homework.
My kids do not want me back out of the house. They asked as we were unpacking the new house
if I would be getting a job. When I said
‘eventually’ they wanted to know if I could do it from home. And only when they weren’t here. I mean I don’t wanna toot my own horn but
apparently I’m doing something right if they want more of me. (Just kidding
they like the snacks and food I make when they get home from school.)
My husband doesn’t necessarily want me out of the house
either. He works a crazy schedule, and he likes to hang out with me away from
the kids. (We would actually gladly run
away together sans kiddos but biology and attachment would have us come home.) And honestly, in a lot of ways either do I. I love to cook and bake and have freedom to
grocery shop at 10 in the morning. I
also enjoy partaking in a siesta every now and then, so that works too.
But what does a woman with a degree and an active brain who
loves to learn and read and create do?
Seriously? This isn’t rhetorical.
I have no idea. Notta one. (Please.. if you suggest some home based
pyramid scheme I’ll scream. I will. Also please take me off your lists. And don’t’ try to sneak me over for a girl’s
wine night and when I walk in there be a presenter and a display of whatever it
is you’re selling. I mean I’ll buy some
crap but I’ll be mad at you…. Just FYI.)
So here I am. At the precipice
of my life. MINE. Where being a good broodmare and baby whisperer
are behind me? Where I can have some
moments of clarity (still very little fucking sleep) and can go on to conquer
more than just two seasons of Gilmore Girls in a week (I did that. My husband figures I have to watch at least 3
episodes a day in order to meet my goal of re-watching all seven seasons so I’m
refreshed when new episodes come back on Netflix. He does not support this addiction, he’s just
very logical and sensible and would like me to get that outta the way before he
gets home.)
In celebration of my new found ‘non-baby-making-or-baby-raising’
life, I decided to do something I hadn’t done in a really long god damn
time. I got my two oldest out of the
door, I dropped my little one at preschool, and I drove to the pool and jumped
in.
OK it wasn’t that easy.
First I got a pass, and at 8:40 am in the morning, makeup-less, and
unaware I was having my photo taken, I was given a card with a terrifying photo
of me on it, and wandered into a change room.
(Where I avoided the hall of lockers with the older ladies and their
freedom of nakedness. and giant bush) I found a locker
which I only used WITHOUT a lock because this wasn’t something I was prepared
to pay for, grabbed my towel (turned out it was my daughter’s. I was at 32 year old using a little girl’s
princess towel) and sauntered out to the pool deck.
And what did my eye behold but SIX beautifully chlorinated
lanes of water without a single person in them!?!
I jumped in (which, in retrospect was a little much since there was
about five ladders I could have gracefully entered upon), looked at the clock
to see the time, and off I went.
As the laps went by it felt like time melted off.
I was on the boat headed out on the water in Maui at 5am,
ready to do my first open water dive (which also happened to be my first dive
ever. Let me tell you, be a strong
swimmer to do an open dive as your first with the waves crashing over your head,
and some chubby Hawaiian pushing your head under water and forcing you to start
your decent. 95% of all scuba accidents happen at the surface. And, as statistics would say, and as my soul
would agree, he ended up being a lifesaver since I don’t think I would have
ever swam with giant green sea turtles next to me, listening to the song of the
humpback whale under the water without that beautiful Hawaiian cherub).
As I went underwater and made my turn, commending myself
that I still ‘got it’ (which is exactly the opposite of the way I feel when
going for a jog. Jogging, for me, in unnatural. Me in the water.. natural), I became that
girl working so hard on her synchronized swimming routine to qualify for summer
games (which I did). Of course in a
small town it was newsworthy, and so my photo showed up in the newspaper in a swimming
cap, wearing a nose clip. Not my finest
hour of being famous but I took it nonetheless.
Every different stroke I started brought up memories I had
forgotten. Some I hadn’t. Like being a
little girl at swimming lessons in the outdoor pool where I grew up. Where I was the only little kid to jump off
the high diving board resulting in one of the WORST wedgies I can ever
remember. Ever.
Finally, as I was feeling my body get tired, I couldn’t help
but be transferred back to swimming lap after lap at my grandparent’s pool,
with my Gramps sitting in an Adirondack chair next to the pool encouraging me
and telling me I was a beautiful swimmer, pushing me to go faster, hold my
breath longer as I flew through the pool.
As I cooled down I just was.
I was that person who was in the water doing something I enjoyed for
no other reason than the sound when you go under the water. The complete lack of sound except your own
heartbeat and your own breath. I wasn’t
a mom of three, a wife, I wasn’t anyone’s anything.
I was Brittany and it was freeing.
Let’s be honest it was also freeing because I don’t know
AYONE in this city yet. No worries of being
goggled up, speedo swimsuit squishing your boobs (proper lane swimmers wear
proper swimwear ya’ll) when I see basically all the women I know taking their
toddlers swimming with makeup and a cute suit on.
No, today it didn’t matter that my hair was knotted at the
back of my head and I had red eyeballs because I forgot goggles. Today I gave zero shits. Ok I gave like, three. Which is lower than the standard 10,000 shits
I give about every single moment of my life.
I finally jumped back in. Figuratively and literally.
Perhaps next week I will write an entry called “how I gracefully got back into my professional life” but knowing my general attitude and disposition I don’t believe it will be so.
I’m a jumper-splasher-totally-submerge-myself kinda person. And dammit, today I don’t think I’d have it any other way.
Perhaps next week I will write an entry called “how I gracefully got back into my professional life” but knowing my general attitude and disposition I don’t believe it will be so.
I’m a jumper-splasher-totally-submerge-myself kinda person. And dammit, today I don’t think I’d have it any other way.
We should all take cues from 3 year olds. Maybe then it wouldn't take so long to feel like ourselves. ;) |