Me

I have craved writing something, anything for a few weeks now. I’ve wanted to exercise some form of creativity and I have missed my blog so much. And then I realised that the fact I had nothing to write about was in fact the perfect thing to write about.
Having both children in school was some sort of big life milestone in my mind, upon which my entire world was due to open up to endless opportunities with the copious free time I would have. I’d take up a new hobby, start a new career, get that “dream body” I’ve been chasing my entire life.
And then nothing happened.
The free time was riddled with guilt. Guilt of the endless chores that still need doing, of the errands that needed to be run to free up time at the weekend. Guilt at being so excited for a day on my own. Guilt for allowing myself to rest after six exhausting years of no rest at all.
And it hit my like a ton of bricks that my entire identity had become “mum”. I couldn’t function without them as a cornerstone of who I was. I didn’t feel I could just go for a walk on my day to myself as “it may be a place they’ll want to visit!” Or go to a lovely coffee shop because “they’ve been asking to try a cake there!”. I couldn’t think independently of them and adjust my mindset to what is best for them to what is best for me.
The day itself I know is one of great privilege to have, but every single other waking second is committed to them. And so when that day comes I almost feel as though I can let go of the enormous breath and tension I’ve been holding as I keep it all together for another six days as the exhaustion washes over me in a huge wave. To give your all as a mother is to give a part of you.
This life stage is so hard to adapt to. When you are flung into motherhood you become part of an intense club, full of people going through almost exactly the same thing as you. There will be at least two other mums in that baby group with a child who has reflux; the mum across from you in the library is finding breastfeeding hard too. The mums at the weigh in clinic can’t get their little ones to sleep either! It can be lonely but also create quick deep bonds with those around you.
By the time your children go to school, your friends are back at work. You’re lucky to be able to meet up once a quarter, never mind once a week. And the struggles diversify and isolate you, like the branches of a tree; the core is the same but you’re going through such different journeys now, growing in opposite directions. Your children change and your friends know them less; it doubles the expanse between you in half the time.
I have begun to enjoy the quiet with less guilt. I have allowed myself to breathe, rest and recharge. One of the most precious things to me has always been time alone. In some ways I’m very lucky to never have that wish granted to me; forever surrounded by people and sound and energy and love. How lucky I am. But now I can take that day for me to be me; quiet unsociable me. And as 3pm rolls around, I’ll look forward to being mum again.

NB. I always like to read my posts back a few days after I’ve written them to check they don’t sound awful, and this one feels like it does! I don’t know if it has accurately portrayed what I am trying to convey. I read this as if I were a full time working mother and thought ‘what an indulgent entitled drama queen’. Maybe that’s me. But I think I’ll forever feel lucky and conflicted, a confusing crossroad to meet.