08.02.16
It's been a minute since I've written here.
Life's been full, and I don't have as much time or energy to sort my thoughts into words these days.
It is good, for sure. Forrest is almost a year old, and being a mama has been the most intense and awesome experience of my life so far.
Many parts of motherhood have in fact been easier than I'd expected. I had no idea how natural it would feel to fall completely in love with my baby, to protect him, care for him, put everything else on hold for him. It's hard for me to remember anymore, but I think I'd thought at one point that prioritizing Forrest and motherhood would somehow require effort on my part. That's laughable to me now. He is, without any doubt, nor any volition on my part, the center of my world.
What I wasn't prepared for was how much effort it would take to keep all the roles I play in life besides Mama gracefully filled. I know- no, I don't know, and that is much of the difficulty. But I think I want to and even need to do these things, both for myself, and ultimately for Forrest too. I think it's likely that I will be a better person for having healthy relationships, a career that's meaningful to me, a couple of hobbies that stretch and bend my mind a bit, and some time for personal reflection. I hope- sometimes desperately- that the various things I choose to spend my time doing complement one another, and somehow, in combination, create the fabric of a good and meaningful life. But I am often overwhelmed by how difficult it feels to be anything other than Mama.
I wrote shortly after Forrest was born about the kind of loss of oneself that inevitably- but perhaps, as was the case for me, completely unexpectedly- occurs as a sort of rite of passage into motherhood. It was almost a year ago, and I guess I'd imagined the sting of that loss would have faded by now. Instead it seems intensified.
I feel like I'm constantly second-guessing myself these days. I had no idea that the surety I worked so hard for- that I earned- in my first 30 years, would crumble when I became a mother. Surety of what? Of who I am, what I want, what I should be doing, I suppose. I remember knowing, even when I had it, that surety was rare. Maybe I never really had it. Maybe it was just that when there was less at stake, I was better able to squelch the doubts that inevitably rise up as one sails through the seas of life. I don't know. I think I believed in it though, and maybe that was all that mattered. Maybe that's all there is to it.
I remember once having a very vivid dream where I could fly. I was standing in a room, and someone kept telling me I could do it if I just concentrated enough, and I remember dreaming that that was as ridiculous as it sounds now, but lo and behold, when I flexed my back just so, I lifted off the ground. It was one of the more real feeling dreams I've ever had.
I miss so much being sure of myself. I miss feeling free to make mistakes, and I miss the lightness of my 20s. I miss picking a new country out and moving there, because I could. I miss buying overpriced coffee and sitting and people-watching, because I had nothing else to do. I miss falling in love and being careless, especially alongside the one I love, because that was the point of life. I miss the excitement of the ever present sensation that life laid before me like a blank canvas, with limitless potential. Seeing that, knowing that, was magic, and more than even the magic itself, I miss embodying it.
It feels different these days. Today I started medical school. It's what I've wanted and worked toward for years upon years, and I couldn't ask for a more supportive partner, or a better life within which to do it. I can't figure out why, then, it still feels so scary, and that, in it of itself, scares me more. I have had an amazing and fulfilling life so far, based mainly upon leaping somewhat wildly from intuition to intuition. I know I don't want to drift aimlessly for the rest of my days, but it's difficult to trust that I know enough to set my course.
And I am, of course, not ignorant of the potential impact of all sorts of factors beyond my control. In fact, I feel confident that obstacles and hardships I haven't planned for will come, and instead of feeling ready, as I once did, I dread them. There is so much more to lose now.
I feel like I have to keep writing until I can come up with some resolution, because that's always been kind of the point, but I'm at a loss.
Maybe, for right now, that's just it. It is a loss. I have gained tremendously in the past year, more than I might ever have dreamed I could. The gratitude I have for what I have gained exceeds anything I could try to express. But it is not without loss. The losses I feel are real, and I have the right to mourn them, even as I move forward- confidently- to embrace the gains.
Life's been full, and I don't have as much time or energy to sort my thoughts into words these days.
It is good, for sure. Forrest is almost a year old, and being a mama has been the most intense and awesome experience of my life so far.
Many parts of motherhood have in fact been easier than I'd expected. I had no idea how natural it would feel to fall completely in love with my baby, to protect him, care for him, put everything else on hold for him. It's hard for me to remember anymore, but I think I'd thought at one point that prioritizing Forrest and motherhood would somehow require effort on my part. That's laughable to me now. He is, without any doubt, nor any volition on my part, the center of my world.
What I wasn't prepared for was how much effort it would take to keep all the roles I play in life besides Mama gracefully filled. I know- no, I don't know, and that is much of the difficulty. But I think I want to and even need to do these things, both for myself, and ultimately for Forrest too. I think it's likely that I will be a better person for having healthy relationships, a career that's meaningful to me, a couple of hobbies that stretch and bend my mind a bit, and some time for personal reflection. I hope- sometimes desperately- that the various things I choose to spend my time doing complement one another, and somehow, in combination, create the fabric of a good and meaningful life. But I am often overwhelmed by how difficult it feels to be anything other than Mama.
I wrote shortly after Forrest was born about the kind of loss of oneself that inevitably- but perhaps, as was the case for me, completely unexpectedly- occurs as a sort of rite of passage into motherhood. It was almost a year ago, and I guess I'd imagined the sting of that loss would have faded by now. Instead it seems intensified.
I feel like I'm constantly second-guessing myself these days. I had no idea that the surety I worked so hard for- that I earned- in my first 30 years, would crumble when I became a mother. Surety of what? Of who I am, what I want, what I should be doing, I suppose. I remember knowing, even when I had it, that surety was rare. Maybe I never really had it. Maybe it was just that when there was less at stake, I was better able to squelch the doubts that inevitably rise up as one sails through the seas of life. I don't know. I think I believed in it though, and maybe that was all that mattered. Maybe that's all there is to it.
I remember once having a very vivid dream where I could fly. I was standing in a room, and someone kept telling me I could do it if I just concentrated enough, and I remember dreaming that that was as ridiculous as it sounds now, but lo and behold, when I flexed my back just so, I lifted off the ground. It was one of the more real feeling dreams I've ever had.
I miss so much being sure of myself. I miss feeling free to make mistakes, and I miss the lightness of my 20s. I miss picking a new country out and moving there, because I could. I miss buying overpriced coffee and sitting and people-watching, because I had nothing else to do. I miss falling in love and being careless, especially alongside the one I love, because that was the point of life. I miss the excitement of the ever present sensation that life laid before me like a blank canvas, with limitless potential. Seeing that, knowing that, was magic, and more than even the magic itself, I miss embodying it.
It feels different these days. Today I started medical school. It's what I've wanted and worked toward for years upon years, and I couldn't ask for a more supportive partner, or a better life within which to do it. I can't figure out why, then, it still feels so scary, and that, in it of itself, scares me more. I have had an amazing and fulfilling life so far, based mainly upon leaping somewhat wildly from intuition to intuition. I know I don't want to drift aimlessly for the rest of my days, but it's difficult to trust that I know enough to set my course.
And I am, of course, not ignorant of the potential impact of all sorts of factors beyond my control. In fact, I feel confident that obstacles and hardships I haven't planned for will come, and instead of feeling ready, as I once did, I dread them. There is so much more to lose now.
I feel like I have to keep writing until I can come up with some resolution, because that's always been kind of the point, but I'm at a loss.
Maybe, for right now, that's just it. It is a loss. I have gained tremendously in the past year, more than I might ever have dreamed I could. The gratitude I have for what I have gained exceeds anything I could try to express. But it is not without loss. The losses I feel are real, and I have the right to mourn them, even as I move forward- confidently- to embrace the gains.
posted by bella.calamitas at 7:39 PM
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