A weeks old Austin Kleon newsletter I had sitting in my inbox has me thinking about routines. Not the getting up, eating breakfast, getting dressed type routines, but routines for creativity and happiness. Along with all of the daily must-dos, it would be nice to set aside time for the like-to-dos. Time for things that feel good.
I feel, in many ways, like I’ve been asleep for the past 7 years. I’ve at least been far too much in my own head for much of that time. I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other without much thought as to where I’m going or whether I’m enjoying the journey. Occasionally I’ll stop and look around and think that maybe I should either pick a destination or make the trip worthwhile, but then I just start plodding along again.
Part of this is the modern life of a suburban mom. The kids come first. Activities, doctor’s appointments, school, food, clothing, shelter. Part of it was the anxiety that focused on some unknown future or some shameful past, but didn’t care much to stop and look around at today. Being a mom was a joy for me before the anxiety got so bad. I loved everything about it. Then it became a scary landscape full of monsters and landmines and dark alleys. I was just sure I was screwing it all up. Luckily, things aren’t so dark anymore. Unluckily, I lost several years to that dark forest. My kids are older now and things have really changed. Their needs have completely changed and I was too focused on the wrong things to keep up.
During the past few months I’ve felt more like my old self. I’ve started thinking about where I’d like to be going, but I’m still just putting one foot in front of the other without much thought. Sometimes I look around and wonder if I’m happy. I wonder if I’m doing the best for my family. I wonder if I really like the furniture and stuff that fills my house. Do I like this house, this neighborhood, this town, this state. I’ve started noticing the path that t’m plodding on. I’ve started checking out maps for a better destination. I’ve started thinking 5 years down the road instead of only wondering what I’ll make for dinner that night. One step at a time was all I could manage for awhile. It really was the best I had.
Writing kinda saved my sanity during that long plod through the dark night. I was able to do something that felt safe and comfortable. It didn’t take up much time so I didn’t have to feel guilty for having a passion. Yet now I feel like it’s work. Like it’s a chore I don’t want to do. I love words and I love mixing them up into my own creations. So, what has changed? Party it feels like a scrapbook of the dark path. So much of what I wrote was a reflection of the fear and anxiety. My uncertainty and discontentment. My connections were born of that need for someone to see that I was hurting and to soothe that hurt. I rambled on and on about fear, loneliness, brokenness, uncertainty, lack of self esteem. I begged for acceptance through my words. I just wanted people to see me and like me and somehow heal me.
The writing is a link to all of that darkness. Posting to Instagram is a link to all of that darkness. A place where I was so openly broken. It’s hard to know how to write now. It’s hard to know what to write about if it isn’t the brokenness, because I really think that’s what people want to read about. They want the hurt and the darkness. I think all of my poems of unrequited love were about feeling unlovable. Maybe about being unable to love myself. Certainly about being unable to accept it from anyone else. There may have been people I temporarily attached that feeling to, who I thought I wanted to love me. But in the end, it was something I wanted from everyone. It was something I wanted from myself, from my family, from the world. “Please just see something in me that you can love,” I was almost begging. And the community of Instagram witnessed it all.
My feet have stilled on the path, if just for today. I’m camped out, looking around, studying maps, and sitting by the fire with myself. I’m meditating on what I need NOW, not when I was younger. What my kids need NOW, not when they were small. What brings me joy, what moves me forward, what I can offer. I’m feeding the fire with old expectations and insecurities. I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I feel it will be a much more beautiful journey.
(I offer you a seat by the fire, Not because I need you to hold my hand, or because I need you to validate my existence. But because you may need some warmth and downtime too. I’ve looked at relationships quite selfishly the past several years. Only wanting them to make me feel whole and worthy. I now offer you a place to sit and talk. To exchange ideas. And to leave when your journey calls you on.)
I have digressed quite far from any talk of routines. From what started me writing this morning. Maybe talk of routine is for another journal entry. I think this one took the journey it was meant to take.