I have forgotten who I am.
I have forgotten the inner child.
Its in a deep slumber amidst the amnesia that started with responsibilities.
It does pop its head once in a while. But I ignore it. Like the back ache ignored amidst feeding the baby. Like the dry skin ignored amidst all the running around.
But now is a good time to remember.
The days I hopped around in a skirt.
The nights I skipped around counting stars.
The dreams I had swinging in the breeze.
The butterflies I wanted to chase – both real and metaphorical.
The friends I wished I could chat with for eternity.
The friends I lost touch with,
The dreams that flew past me,
The days of joy and fun I long for.
There are days I wonder how all the other stay-at-home moms do it all by themselves. I admire all the single moms that have no help with child care. I wonder if the other moms suck as much as I do or if it’s just me. I wonder about all the courage it takes to look at each day in the face and say “I’m gonna get you” and if it was always this hard.
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear” – Ambrose Redmoon.
I try to think about the answer to the ultimate question: “What do you do?”. I try to answer in many different ways but eventually end up with THE answer “I take care of my toddler and when I’m not doing that, I try to do different things”. Try? Different things? That’s as vague as it could get. For myself and for others. But mostly because I don’t want people to probe or ask more questions. Also because I’m still trying to figure it out.
“Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: If you are alive, it isn’t” – Richard Bach.
I think of other moms that had postpartum depression while wondering if I do too. I think of celebrities that have eating disorder and the different hacks they use to deal with it everyday.
I look for ways to entertain my little one amidst all the shouting in my head that goes on about the hundred other things I could possibly be doing at that time. It’s not like I’ve used my time very well in the past. Even before the baby, there were times where I’d ponder about what I want to do with my life just like I do now. Only the frequency and intensity is higher now. As high as the number of grey hairs on my bald head.
I also seem to forgive lot of the not-so-important things that I’d been angry about with my parents. I am still mad at the very important things they screwed up for me and the thousand different ways they could have been there for me in need. I seem to be fine with that because it acts as a compass for my actions towards my toddler. I seem to be fine with it also because the two generations seem to share a bond that I immensely enjoy watching from a distance.
“The reason grandchildren and grandparents get along so well is that they have a common enemy” – Sam Levenson.
There is a strange kind of serenity amidst all the chaos and confusion about life. An ironic comfort and happiness that sets in when listening to melancholic songs when you are sad. A feeling that only surges in when thinking about how meaningless life would have been if my son didn’t accidentally come along. So many challenges and so many dreams. Sometimes it’s a good thing when you don’t get what you want.
WANTED: The inner child.
Description: Adventurous, free spirited, ferociously independent.
Last seen on: The day labor pain started.
If found, please do not report. I am a much better person now.