I'm surprised to find myself in a pocket of misery. I'm not really sure how I got here, but I came to the conclusion last Friday night, after fighting with my husband and crying over things that can't really be changed. I've been going through the motions, getting from point A to point B, living in a haze I told myself I would never let back into my life. Alas, the haze has returned.
This time it has nothing to do with a crying newborn. It has noting to do with sleepless nights, missed milestones, the isolation that comes with being a stay at home mother. Somehow the haze has found me in my new life. As a new kind of mother, with no agenda and no rules to follow. The haze has found this new me, with new hopes and new dreams. The haze has settled and made it hard to see those hopes and dreams.
I've spent these precious weeks of summer in a haze. Working, and when I'm not working too tired to do much of anything. I haven't written. I haven't blogged. I haven't done anything notable with my children. Finally last week I forced myself out of the house to take the kids to the used book store. In this haze, I've spent my time in front of my TV, watching re-runs, reading books, and basically checking out. I didn't even realize I was doing it. I didn't recognize the haze. Until Friday.
Friday I was in a horrible mood. Tired from my 4 a.m. wake up call. Tired from the week. Tired from, what I'd later realize, being miserable. The Hubbs and I fought and argued about all the same things we always argue about. Money. Work. The most frustrating part is that we cannot change a lot of these things right now. I can be tired and sick of them, but they will not go away, and for now there is no remedy. But I was also sad about the things that have gone away since work and money have become the focus. I'm in a haze, in a pocket of misery because I feel like I've given up on me. On the things that I have wanted. Like this blog. Like my book. I've been in a haze because I'm angry and uninspired. Because the voice inside my head says to give up, that even if I put in the work, I'll never get there. I've been in a haze because I feel like these pieces of me are slipping away.
And while all of those pieces slip away, I retreat into my haze and not only do I suffer, but my kids suffer. I haven't done anything with my kids. Not really. They play and I stew and then the day is almost over and I can't wait to go to bed. I've talked about arts and crafts projects and trips to the beach, and yet, we still have nothing to show for all the talk. So now, right in the middle of the haze, the guilt sets in. A guilt so overwhelming it blinds me.
So in the middle of feeling sorry for myself, I found myself overwhelmed by guilt. And it's the worse kind of guilt because it's the mommy kind of guilt. I don't want my kids to remember this as the summer mommy had to work. The summer mommy sat on the couch and watched episode after episode of her favorite show. The summer mommy sat with her pockets filled with misery and her head caught in the haze.
It took a few days, but I've found some perspective. Somehow along the way I found my footing in motherhood, and it allowed me to think about myself again. It's not a bad thing to thing about yourself, but sometimes you have to think about the little humans before yourself. They don't have elaborate hopes and dreams right now. They are seven and four. They don't care about mommy's blog or the book she wants to write. One day they will. One day they will be proud of my hopes and dreams. But this summer is not that time. They just want their mommy. They just want their mother to be present. They want to bake cookies and paint with water colors and read books. They want to go to a matinee and eat ice cream for dinner. They want to play in the sprinklers and use the Modge Podge they found in Mommy's crafting supplies.
Sometimes we don't realize what we are really missing. I thought I was missing my writing. I thought I was missing some opportunities. But I was really missing out on this summer. This summer. The only summer I will get this year. I think I caught myself just in time. Perspective will do that. So as I immerse myself in glue and paint and ice cream sandwiches, I will also become inspired. To write. To live. To be my old self again. And the haze, it will lift, and my pockets, they will empty. Only to be refilled with hopes and dreams, and love.
