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Not Right Now, I'm Writing A Blog
Dec. 27th, 2017 02:37 pmIt's a quiet day after Christmas. Some people are back at work, others still on holidays. Hot weather, a north wind, which always gives people the irrits, as my mother would say. PizzaBoy is just back from seeing to the invalid needs of MotorCycleMan, who is still off-road, and off-work, due to his bike falling on his leg. PB has been going out weekly to shop for MCM, take him to appointments, and earlier, manage laundry, and overseeing the refurbishment of MCM's manky bathroom floor.
PB, until just this moment, has been sitting in the stream of air-conditioning, just being. He looks exhausted, beetroot red. I know he wants to download his day to me, but I can't. I simply can't. I promised myself a blog entry, and if I'm to stick with my promises to myself, I have to come at the idea that I can't be endlessly available to everyone, despite what they might want of me.
This is a difficult one for me. I am a people-pleaser, and Marge Piercy's poem 'To Be Of Use' is stuck deep in my psyche. My mind chose to interpret this being of use as being of service, and being of service meaning to be available.
Well, this doesn't serve me any more. I simply can't be open 24/4 to whatever news family wish to park on me, whatever needs doing, whatever huge emergency which always turns out to be not an emergency.
I have to learn to be self-ish. For me to say to my family: "I'm sorry, I'm not available right now, even though you see me sitting here in the lounge, where it's possible I'm just checking facebook, but I'm actually not, I'm trying to blog, or write a paragraph of a flash fiction, and there's no way for you to tell as you approach me" is a giant step. One I'm not comfortable with, but has to happen.
For my own sanity, for the whole of the second half of my life, I have to train to get in shape to follow my path.
So, no, PB, your download of your day, is not for right now. My phone is still in my bag where I can't see any flashing lights. My ipad is in my bedroom. I sit here, on the brown couch, and make a first foray into 'my own time'. I've tried this many times before, and faltered. Eyes on the prize, Satya. The prize being me.
Even the most dedicated of magpie parents get to the stage of pecking junior on the head to finish kicking them out of the nest. This time, it's me kicking myself out of the dedicated motherhood nest, and claiming the Enchantress stage of life. Turning to my own Polaris star, and starting to navigate my life anew.
Scary, and exciting.
It starts with 'no'.
PB, until just this moment, has been sitting in the stream of air-conditioning, just being. He looks exhausted, beetroot red. I know he wants to download his day to me, but I can't. I simply can't. I promised myself a blog entry, and if I'm to stick with my promises to myself, I have to come at the idea that I can't be endlessly available to everyone, despite what they might want of me.
This is a difficult one for me. I am a people-pleaser, and Marge Piercy's poem 'To Be Of Use' is stuck deep in my psyche. My mind chose to interpret this being of use as being of service, and being of service meaning to be available.
Well, this doesn't serve me any more. I simply can't be open 24/4 to whatever news family wish to park on me, whatever needs doing, whatever huge emergency which always turns out to be not an emergency.
I have to learn to be self-ish. For me to say to my family: "I'm sorry, I'm not available right now, even though you see me sitting here in the lounge, where it's possible I'm just checking facebook, but I'm actually not, I'm trying to blog, or write a paragraph of a flash fiction, and there's no way for you to tell as you approach me" is a giant step. One I'm not comfortable with, but has to happen.
For my own sanity, for the whole of the second half of my life, I have to train to get in shape to follow my path.
So, no, PB, your download of your day, is not for right now. My phone is still in my bag where I can't see any flashing lights. My ipad is in my bedroom. I sit here, on the brown couch, and make a first foray into 'my own time'. I've tried this many times before, and faltered. Eyes on the prize, Satya. The prize being me.
Even the most dedicated of magpie parents get to the stage of pecking junior on the head to finish kicking them out of the nest. This time, it's me kicking myself out of the dedicated motherhood nest, and claiming the Enchantress stage of life. Turning to my own Polaris star, and starting to navigate my life anew.
Scary, and exciting.
It starts with 'no'.
