energy

The other night while having dinner with a friend, I mentioned blogging, almost in a reminiscent way.   “I wish I could write more,” I told her. “I want to write about the kids more, about postpartum depression, yoga, learning to cook and eat healthfully, gardening, photography and digital processing, and parenting.  I wish I had more time.”  She nodded.  I’m guessing she understood.  It’s hard to do it all; making time for everything that we want in our lives is not easy.  My outlook has shifted though; once upon a time, I thought that if I directed all of my energy at just one or two areas, that those areas would be shining parts of my life . . . that I could succeed in those areas because I had enough time and energy to do a good job.  What I’ve discovered in recent months (and perhaps years) is that it is okay to have many interests; wanting to be a good parent and a good wife does not mean that I can’t be a good writer, teacher, photographer, or friend.  

When I look back on my life, almost a decade ago now, I remember a time when I worked so much and studied so much that I had little time for friends or relationships.  It was a sad and hard time.  I think I kept so busy because I wanted to avoid confronting the feeling that so many of us experience in our early twenties . . . the feeling of being lost . . . not knowing which direction to move in . . . a virgin to the world.

When I quit my first teaching job and was faced with the prospects of no income and no productive way to spend my time, I remember feeling so angry.  Anger at myself, anger at my job situation, anger at the public school system, anger at everyone who I loved or who loved me because no one could tell me what I should do.  Faced with time on my hands, I decided to return to graduate school, volunteer, and work part-time.  I earned pennies.  I am lucky that my then fiance, soon-to-be spouse decided to hold my hand and help me through this time.  It was rock bottom (perhaps even worse than my more recent experience with ppd?).

In any case, with time, I discovered that I loved to teach, I just did not enjoy teaching adolescents; so I taught adult education, English to speakers of other languages, and yoga.  I spent much time studying, writing, and beating myself up.  I felt a great deal of guilt for being financially dependent on my spouse and for putting him through what I consider my quarter life crisis.

My energy and time were directed towards many things: my students, my professors, my spirituality, healing, my husband, and my family.  Slowly, slowly, I made friends too.

When I gave birth to Annabelle, two and a half years later, I know that my life changed and improved.  Suddenly, I had a great purpose: motherhood.  I was going to be the best mother I could possibly be.  My husband and I decided that I would stay home.  I spent little time doing anything but caring for my daughter.  I breastfed around the clock, carried my baby with me wherever I went, exercised with my baby, read her stories,  played with her, and started to meet many, many people.  Again, I felt some guilt that I wasn’t earning any money, but I felt so much pride that I was the sole individual responsible for raising my child.  In many ways, my ideals were in the right place, but being an overachiever, I threw so much of myself into motherhood, I think that I started to lose sight of me, of who I was . . . I don’t think that in the first year of Annabelle’s life I could conceive of there being more to my identity than that of “Annabelle’s mom.”

Of course, she grew older.  She needed me less and less.  She took her first steps.  She talked.  She learned and played.  She struggled with herself and with other children.  She made friends.  And she needed me, just not to the extent that she once had as a newborn.

I decided to volunteer again.  I wrote my Green Mamma blog.

Then I purchased my first SLR, the Nikon d90.  Photography. Ahh.

While I was pregnant with Levi, I think that I threw myself back into that early motherhood phase; again, guilt got the better of me . . . I felt as though I were betraying Annabelle by having another baby, so I made sure that I devoted special time and created activity after activity for her to show her my love; I’ve since learned that I gave her and her brother the greatest of gifts: another person to love.

We then welcomed Levi into our lives, a great blessing that in many ways helped me get through the despair of postpartum depression. Annabelle started preschool.  She branched out further.  She took ballet, she took art classes, she made new friends, but still, at night, for five minutes before bed, she needed me.  She has nursed almost every night since she was born.  She still nurses.  It is our time.  Even though Levi doesn’t nurse, I’ve continued to nurse my 3 year old because she wants to, she needs too.  I hold each of them against my body, one in each arm; Levi nurses on his bottle and Annabelle nurses on me.  I feel so complete during those moments, especially when Toby lays beside us purring and my hubby is there too, flipping through the newspaper or watching t.v.

Meanwhile I garden.  I am starting a photography business.  I want to teach yoga to pregnant and postnatal moms.  I want to volunteer.  I want to spend time with my kids and be good friends with my husband.

My energy is all over the place, directed in so many areas; I may not be famous, I may not be the best, but I am thriving . . . all these parts of me, scattered though they (I) may be, thrive, because they help make my life spicy, make me want to get up in the morning.  Make me want to see what is going to happen next.

Just a little visual chart I made for myself so that I can keep track of it all, :-)