January 3rd, 2018
I recently scrolled through my Instagram and Facebook pages to see countless New Years Resolutions. Each resolution I read and then quietly pondered, wondering if that could possibly be a resolution for myself. I have searched for words that jut out and speak to me as “my word” for 2018. Each word not fulfilling. Not whole. Not Enough (which strangely is how I feel on a daily basis). The only ‘thing’ and word I keep coming back to is to write.
I’m not sure if this is something that will be published. Maybe published as a blog or maybe kept as a journal? I’m often one of the first to stop reading when a “friend” indulges too much on social media and now I feel like I’m embarking on a undertaking that defines overindulging. I know I’m an Upholder (thanks to Gretchen Rubin’s The Four Tendencies), so I don’t really need outside accountability to continue writing, but with that being said, maybe it would be nice to not feel so lonely.
I’m not even sure if ‘lonely’ constitutes as the correct word in that sentence. I have three beautiful little girls, a husband, and my sugar-muffin of a golden, Cooper. As a mother, I do so often feel like I’ve lost myself. Who am I now? What do I have to show of my worth other than my children? I’m a stay-at-home mom and I LOVE IT. I love the freedom and the flexibility but it can be isolating. Side Note: I feel like everything I write is going to be judged and my style of writing is very much stream of consciousness. I don’t want to have to justify the differences in working moms vs SAHM and blah blah and so on. Both are hard. Momming is hard. I just want to write (what a concept... right?)
Before children I felt like I was intelligent and lively. I can reread through my old college essays and I don’t even recognize the writer. Damn, I was good. I majored in Secondary Education- English almost ten years ago. Those days were filled with Tennyson, Charlotte Perkins Gillman, and Shakespeare, now I read and repeat The Gruffalo in my best Scottish-English animal accent. That’s the highest constant literary achievement I’ve had in over four years. However, my four year old and I have recently begun our adventure to Prince Edward Island’s Green Gables during her rest time, so maybe I’m moving on up.
I have come to the resolve that I write better at night and in my head when I should be sleeping. Instead of sleeping my mind is busy filling imaginary pages, and yet come dawn, I’ll forget the perfect coquet of words dancing about in harmonious symmetry.
This journal will encompass everything. It will be 365 days of me and mine. My thoughts, my children, my home. My life. I’m taking a huge step and letting others in. In IN. Not just the posed snapshot of instagram perfection. Here’s to my 30’s and to 2018.
ALSO WTF TO CALL THIS?
Side Note 2: I also envied others who chose words such as peace, relaxation, rest, for their 2018 “word” to live by. I all-too-soon remembered I will have a 2 and 3 year old this year. Those words are joke. My once sweet 20 month old is slowly vamping into a scary version of a hungry animal who wants to claw your face off when you try to put pajamas on her. Or pick her up. Or take off her diaper. And my now two year old turns three in two weeks. I’ll have a threenager again. I really hate the 3’s.
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