Millions of Peaches, Peaches for Free
Well, here we are again.
Back to the grind, so they say.
When does "the grind," just become, "life?"
I’ve had my baby. I’m back from that special, sacred time, maternity leave. That time that began a whirlwind of warp-speed-life. But I’m supposed to just be back to normal now. It’s been eight whole months, mama. Get your shit together! You should be good as new, and better than before! Back to this job where it’s just a part of the world that couldn’t care less about you and your baby! You have to rejoin the world to make money! To feed your family!
Ugh. I get it. I know.
I’ve experienced great loss, in the span of a year’s time. I lost my last-living grandparents, to whom I was very close. My department at work went through some of the most stressful upheavals I have ever experienced in my entire professional life, and that includes 20 years of working. I’ve packed up and moved my house three times. Although I think, I THINK, we are finally settled in a place we can stay for a while… Who knows? The beach still calls me and I know one day we will answer that call… And in the middle of all of this, yes, I did have my son.
Everyone has their stuff. Life is messy and sad and happy and all of those extreme emotions at once. The more I’ve come to feel myself out as an adult, and have other adult relationships—relationships that started after I was already that “adult” age. Not relationships that began when I was a college kid and they have grown with me. But the more I get to know people, colleagues, the more I freaking realize we are all still working on ourselves and truly nobody really has all of their shit perfectly together. But boy, aren’t we in a world where we at least have to look and act like we do. Honesty doesn’t count for much. Transparency? Nah. It does to a person, but not to the world. Does that make sense?
Well, forgive this running-train-of-thought-jumbled-pile-of-words-that-look-like-a-blog.
I’m just reflecting out loud, or on screen, rather.
I’m doing okay, now, I guess. The work stress is getting a bit better. I had given up hope because when I first returned, it was unstable, and not peaceful, but hope is fluttering back in. After 12 weeks of maternity leave, weeks 13-25 at work, I did lose my marbles. People were worried about me. There was too much stress. It’s hard to put words to it all now, the sickness I felt. The joy it robbed me with my family. And I have no doubt that even if my emotions weren’t so highly charged due to hormones, I still would have felt the stress. I know that had I been more of a right hormonal and emotional mind, I probably wouldn’t have cried so much! I know I would have been able to handle it all better. Maybe not with grace, as that is just not my nature, damn it, but at least I could have learned to compartmentalize it all sooner and enjoyed other parts of my life.
But all of this to say that I wish I lived in a country that beheld women a little more. It seems that someone is always trying to fight for something, their rights, their voice. Especially lately. I wish we lived in a world that no one had to fight. I wish my son lived in that world.
I’m not so privileged that I get to watch him every moment of each day and capture those firsts because I have to work. A cog on a wheel that goes on forever so we can pay our bills, and those that come after us can pay their bills… But I know I am privileged in that I got some time at all away from work to have with him.
But it wasn’t enough. My mind, body, and spirit have still not completely “healed” from it all; the magical process of giving birth and becoming a mom. I needed more time. Time protected. Away from the world.
So, many ideas and so many thoughts and so many run-on sentences and cliches :) I need to sit and really take time to write it all down. Gather my thoughts. GET MY SHIT TOGETHER. Haha!
Back to the grind, so they say.
When does "the grind," just become, "life?"
I’ve had my baby. I’m back from that special, sacred time, maternity leave. That time that began a whirlwind of warp-speed-life. But I’m supposed to just be back to normal now. It’s been eight whole months, mama. Get your shit together! You should be good as new, and better than before! Back to this job where it’s just a part of the world that couldn’t care less about you and your baby! You have to rejoin the world to make money! To feed your family!
Ugh. I get it. I know.
I’ve experienced great loss, in the span of a year’s time. I lost my last-living grandparents, to whom I was very close. My department at work went through some of the most stressful upheavals I have ever experienced in my entire professional life, and that includes 20 years of working. I’ve packed up and moved my house three times. Although I think, I THINK, we are finally settled in a place we can stay for a while… Who knows? The beach still calls me and I know one day we will answer that call… And in the middle of all of this, yes, I did have my son.
Everyone has their stuff. Life is messy and sad and happy and all of those extreme emotions at once. The more I’ve come to feel myself out as an adult, and have other adult relationships—relationships that started after I was already that “adult” age. Not relationships that began when I was a college kid and they have grown with me. But the more I get to know people, colleagues, the more I freaking realize we are all still working on ourselves and truly nobody really has all of their shit perfectly together. But boy, aren’t we in a world where we at least have to look and act like we do. Honesty doesn’t count for much. Transparency? Nah. It does to a person, but not to the world. Does that make sense?
Well, forgive this running-train-of-thought-jumbled-pile-of-words-that-look-like-a-blog.
I’m just reflecting out loud, or on screen, rather.
I’m doing okay, now, I guess. The work stress is getting a bit better. I had given up hope because when I first returned, it was unstable, and not peaceful, but hope is fluttering back in. After 12 weeks of maternity leave, weeks 13-25 at work, I did lose my marbles. People were worried about me. There was too much stress. It’s hard to put words to it all now, the sickness I felt. The joy it robbed me with my family. And I have no doubt that even if my emotions weren’t so highly charged due to hormones, I still would have felt the stress. I know that had I been more of a right hormonal and emotional mind, I probably wouldn’t have cried so much! I know I would have been able to handle it all better. Maybe not with grace, as that is just not my nature, damn it, but at least I could have learned to compartmentalize it all sooner and enjoyed other parts of my life.
But all of this to say that I wish I lived in a country that beheld women a little more. It seems that someone is always trying to fight for something, their rights, their voice. Especially lately. I wish we lived in a world that no one had to fight. I wish my son lived in that world.
I’m not so privileged that I get to watch him every moment of each day and capture those firsts because I have to work. A cog on a wheel that goes on forever so we can pay our bills, and those that come after us can pay their bills… But I know I am privileged in that I got some time at all away from work to have with him.
But it wasn’t enough. My mind, body, and spirit have still not completely “healed” from it all; the magical process of giving birth and becoming a mom. I needed more time. Time protected. Away from the world.
So, many ideas and so many thoughts and so many run-on sentences and cliches :) I need to sit and really take time to write it all down. Gather my thoughts. GET MY SHIT TOGETHER. Haha!
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