I love my baby. I love my baby so much. I never knew anything could feel like this. I love my husband a lot, but this is totally different.
Why then, have I been disconnected, irritable, and bored-feeling while I’ve been hanging out with my little one this week? Don’t get me wrong - I didn’t start yelling at, or ignoring, my kid all of the sudden. I just didn’t enjoy myself and I’ve been making stupid mistakes. (What? That thing can be ripped into bite-sized pieces? Who knew!) Along with all that, I’ve been ignoring this incredible urge to be creative while also not having the motivation to do anything about it. It’s also possible that I’ve been self-medicating with food. Pancakes twice in a day? Yes. That day was yesterday.
Meditation helped. The first day was bad enough that I was inspired to meditate before getting out of bed the next day. The effects of meditation were like a drug. I felt like I was back to normal. Then I felt it wear off about 11 hours later. Or maybe I just got tired.
But yesterday, I was too darn tired to meditate before getting up. I kept falling back to sleep. I took a few short moments during the day to center myself and I’m pretty sure that’s what got me through. (That and the pancakes.) But still, it shouldn’t be this hard.
The internet calls this “mommy burnout” and suggests I get a hobby, take some time for myself, or take a nap. Seriously? If I could run out and get a massage or go to a restorative yoga class every time I had the craving, I wouldn’t be in this state. But that’s not a possibility at this time. Same goes for naps lately too. As for getting a hobby, I’ve been thinking about learning the cello, practicing calligraphy, and I’d like to take a language class. I don’t think that my baby and I are ready for that just yet though.
But then I started listening to Elizabeth Gilbert read her book, Big Magic, in the car and realized I haven’t written anything, or really meditated, for months. When my baby was newer, I made a point write and then release my writing into the world at least once per week and I meditated several times per day. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I focused on my breathing, I checked in with myself, and I got my thoughts out of my head.
Liz, as she refers to herself in her books, made me think of ideas as friendly little creatures and encouraged me to have an affair with my writing. So here I am, stealing time at midnight while my family sleeps, to express in words the idea that came to me during meditation.
Will this help me feel more connected to my life? I sure hope so! It’s certainly better than wishing for a massage, a yoga class, and a nap. But if not, at least I’ve fulfilled the urge to be creative while making a new friend and helping it to become a reality. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, read Big Magic.