“Do you have a creative outlet?” she asked me.
Another mom at our homeschool co-op happens to have a boy-girl-boy set with the same spacing as my kids. We were sitting the nursery, sharing the overwhelm of our day-to-day, and came to the consensus that this stage of life is a lot.
For a few months, I didn’t have a creative outlet. I barely had a basic hygiene outlet. There was no space for anything else. There was no making the gym a priority, there was no carving out time to write, there were failed attempts at pleasure reading when I’d read a line or two, and wake in the middle of the night with my Kindle on my face.
I think the only thing I’ve read since December was the dosage chart on infant ibuprofen.
Two months of passing around colds.
The startup that was supposed to grow slowly and give me time to learn and adapt, but had secret plans to take off explosively.
A side project that I had no business taking.
Homeschooling well beyond show me the triangle.
It’s been quite a winter. We’re usually emerging from piles and piles of snow this time of year, but the snow part was fairly mild. Instead, it was difficult in other ways. Zombiefyingly (new word?) difficult. I’m definitely coming out on the other side of survival mode.
I’m feeling like I’ve regained consciousness, but that’s not enough. I needed to shake myself awake.
First order of business, I started reading things, because I wanted to, and that’s all I really needed to feel myself again. Then I get back into the gym, because I feel like exercise will cut down on the number of things I forget in a day.
Then of course, the dusty old blog says, hey, remember me? And I’m now writing in it, and it feels good. I feel normal again. I like having this thing – writing, sharing, playing with the layouts when I get bored. All of it.
Then the next high tide will hit, and maybe I’ll step away, maybe I won’t. But I like that it’s there for me to tip type away somethings and nothings as I please.