I'm sure you are all well aware that I have been neglecting my writing, in fact, I've been neglecting a lot of "my" things lately (namely my hair, ugh split ends galore). However, as much as I hate to admit it, there has been very little external responsibility for this neglect. I have a supportive husband, kids who are becoming increasingly less demanding of my every waking moment and the financial and human resources needed to get as involved in the community as I so desire. So why the self-oversight, why the inertia?
It's taken me a while to figure it out. Almost four years in fact. Four years to determine why I've placed myself in this state of self-oversight.
The short answer, guilt.
I know I've written about mom-guilt before, but this guilt is different. This guilt is founded in the responsibility I have, not to friends or family or strangers but to my pre-kids self. A responsibility to not enjoy being a stay-at-home mom. A responsibility to the pre-kids self that worked so hard to prove to the world that she was an intelligent, insightful, aspirational young woman. A human with more to give to this world than simply the fruit of her loin. The academic, the artist, the socialite. I can't help but think that any one of these pre-kids selves would cringe at my enjoyment of staying home with my little people.
I know what you're probably thinking? If not working bothers you so much, then go to work. I've tried. I've applied to jobs, I've set up placements, but I've felt nothing but relief when, for various reasons, they didn't work out.
I like being at home. Actually, I'm sorry Amanda circa 2010, I LOVE being at home.
That being said, I've been punishing myself. I've been keeping my days boring, monotonous even. I've been embracing all of the trying parts of being the at-home parent, but avoiding most of the perks. What is more, is that I've been hesitant to let any of the old Mes bubble up, in fear that they will be incongruent with current me, Mum-Me; that they might judge Mum-Me; that I would explode from the inner turmoil that would be unleashed in my already sleep-deprived brain. The thing is, the old Mes were fun, they were creative, they were thoughtful, they were brave. It wasn't until I sat down to list them, that I realized that they are not as suppressed as I thought they were. What I realized is that the old Mes are Mum-Me. I'm still me. I just haven't been acknowledging all of me.
Last month, I went out on a limb, I auditioned for our community theatre; musical theatre even! I got the part and couldn't be more proud of myself. It's a feeling that I've been missing so much, the self-pride I've been withholding from myself. The self-pride I've owed to myself since that moment they handed a screaming, peeing, baby boy to me in that cold, sterile operating room.
After speaking with many of my mom-friends, both working and stay-at-homers, it has become glaringly apparent that self-oversight seems to be prevalent among moms (and dads) regardless of their circumstance. It seems that almost everyone struggles with how to blend their pre- and post-baby selves, for a variety of reasons. I'll admit, it has taken me a little longer to appreciate the impact of the subconscious self-editing I was engaging in. However, since embracing the other parts of me, the parts I tried, so desperately, to hide my nursing bra-wearing self from, life has become a lot more colourful. By re-engaging in activities that made me, me, before kids; I given myself permission to love where I am at right now, and where I'm at is home, with a cup of luke-warm coffee and forty-five minutes of peace and quiet during nap time.
Until next time,
- A
 |
| Working on choreo with my understudy |
