Lately, I have been walking around as if I am in a trance. I’m desperately trying to find my footing after an intense, whirlwind of a summer. Time is a rollercoaster, and if you stop to think about how quickly it actually passes, it can leave you feeling dizzy and disoriented. Right now…I feel dizzy and disoriented. I meant to do so many things on my bucket-list, but time stole the seconds away.
Summer just started and suddenly, it’s September and the kids are getting ready to head off to school, and I just feel…dazed.
My oldest son is starting grade one and my youngest is starting junior kindergarten. I know he’s ready, hell they both are, but that does little to ease the painful fist of time, clenching my heart in a unrelenting grasp.
My heart aches because I am powerless against the passage of time, and, maybe (if I’m being perfectly honest), it also aches because there will be no babies to cuddle with during the day. For the last seven years, that has been my daily routine. My children have been my focus. I’ve been lucky to fit in household chores and writing, it’s been them. Park trips, play dates, stories and Legos and monsters and dinosaurs.
My children will absolutely still be my focus, of course, but I will have almost seven hours a day, from Monday to Friday, practically to myself. I alternate from wanting to crack out the champagne and do a victory dance (or five) to sobbing and rocking in a corner because what am I going to do with all that time?
Obviously, I’m going to be spending a lot more time writing, but I know there’s going to be an adjustment period where I wander aimlessly around my house, looking at the untouched bins of toys and the spotless rooms in a lost haze of astonishment. Clean has been just a little out of my reach all these years. I mean, the down to the baseboards and the walls and windows sparkling and shining, free of sticky hand-prints kind of clean. Will I actually be able to achieve that kind of clean? Will I actually be able to bring all my glorious visions of organization to life? How many books will I crank out with all this free time? Will I really have a clean house and hours to write?!
And honestly, when the kids were much smaller…I had a nightmare that still haunts me to this day, and it’s likely why I’m still feeling out of sorts about, well…everything. In this dream, both of the kids were at school and my husband was at work. I was sitting in the spotless living room, surrounded by silence. The silence pressed down upon me, making it difficult to breathe. I felt lost…without purpose.
This is probably a driving factor in why I actually started writing in the first place. I knew that one day, my kids would be in school, and I’d have nothing to occupy my time. My disability limits job aspects, and anything I could physically do is hindered by the staggering expense of daycare.
Writing has eased my spirits slightly, at least I know I won’t be sitting in my spotless living room feeling completely without purpose. I have deadlines and I’m sure that my book manager, Chelsea, would kick my sorry ass if I sat around moping and complaining about ‘being without a purpose‘. I threw myself into writing because I wanted a thousand purposes. My children, my husband, my family; they are all purposes, but I wanted more too. I was and still am terrified to live my life through other people’s achievements (but honestly, that’s a whole other post for a whole other day).
I know, it seems almost redundant to be thinking about those things, especially right now. I suppose we all suffer from the same inner conflict; time. It passes too quickly and you can’t get it back. Seriously, where has the goddamn time gone? Both of my babies are school-age students now.
Needless to say, I need to stock up on wine and chocolate and tissues.