I miss blogging so much. SO. MUCH. But dag yo, it’s hard!
Why is it so hard?
One Sunday (at church) we talked about not comparing ourselves to others and how when you do it you’re generally comparing your weakness to another’s strength and that’s a bad recipe. Then again, maybe your comparing your strength to another’s weakness that’s another bad recipe. (no one mentioned this in the discussion. Admitting you think you’re better than other people is aparently taboo?) Anyway what I was thinking was this; What about comparing yourself to yourself? Strengths and weaknesses have peaks and valleys. Things that were my strengths 4 years ago are weaknesses right now and that SUX MAN! (strong language)
You know what’s cool about having babies? The healing process. Not just the obvious physical part, though that’s pretty awesome too, but the emotional part.
Roxy had been gone for three-ish months when I got started making Duke. I was given a miraculous easing of pain when she left. It lasted through the first month of her absence and then pulled back little by little. After you’ve been carried, God sets you back on your feet gentle and slow while you get used to walking again. As I was finding my stride and stumbling a bit, having Duke in my belly pulled me through. That joyous reason to feel horrible helped me come to grips with the grievous. You see, I could easily forgive my lack of productivity on the grounds of pregnancy whereas grief didn’t garner any such lenience. Self forgiveness makes a big difference and pregnancy granted me that.
During the three years that have followed Duke’s arrival Roxy and I (and the rest of the family) have been working through the break in attachment that was the result of her seven month absence from our family. This has not been easy. Reforming and repairing attachment is hard work. Trying to get by without making the repairs is even harder. There have been casualties along the way. Blogging is one. Sewing is another. Basically, all my productive hobbies fell to shambles during this period.
We finally reached a turning point a few months ago. I was relieved to see the improvement in our relationships but pregnancy was so cumbersome mildly pleased was the best I could muster. Joyful was out of the question. Then the baby came and the weight (both figurative and literal) lifted and all of that progress caught up with me.
My midwife checked with me faithfully for signs of postpartum depression, but there was none of that for me this time. Unexplained sadness? No way! I felt (feel) so good. Suddenly I can access the whole of my brain when for so long swaths of it have been partitioned off, unreachable behind velvet ropes of stress and hormones.
One of the mental processes wasting beyond the barrier was my inner monologue. Giving Rox the attention she needed to keep her from flying off the handle and then dealing with the fallout when she flew off the handle anyway was so utterly exhausting there weren’t any resources left to tell myself stories with. If I’m not telling stories to myself, then I ask you, how can I expect myself to write them down and share them? It’s not really reasonable but I tried to do it for quite a while.
It was such a relief when I gave up trying to post regularly. I think I’m ready to come back though. Proof? I’m at 573 words right now and didn’t even have a plan when I started to type. I’ve just been letting my mind wander onto the page. To be honest, I’ve written and lost 2 conclusions to this post already (frustrating) The result of this is; between the lack of planning and starting over halfway through x3 I don’t have any idea whether this post makes any sense or not and I’m so mixed up in it re-reading doesn’t lend any clarity.
I’m forging ahead though because for one thing, the fact that I can continue to spew words onto the page is really encouraging and for another, I’ll never get back in the habit of posting if I don’t start somewhere. So I’ll start here, with this piecey, wandering blather of a post. You’re welcome (sarcasm)