On Being On Hiatus

It's been quiet around here.

Have you noticed?

My time hasn't been my own lately. I am enveloped in caring for two lumps of soft flesh that clamber daily for stories out of picture books, castles built out of blocks, piggy back rides up the stairs and snacks tucked into waiting palms.

I have also been feeling rather melancholy; there's a lingering, drifting sadness that washes in and goes out with the tide and ebbs and flows just like the sea itself. I have ups and downs, but regardless of what is going on, every day there is this sadness that clings to me like seaweed. I have always known that I suffer from depression, but some times are worse than others and recently it has been back full force-- leaving me floundering like a buoy in the storm.

For weeks I have felt like I am nothingness epitomized. Like I could disappear tomorrow and no one would notice. Maybe the kids would notice for a little while but when I wasn't in their peripheral vision, when I wasn't there to bathe and dress them, to play and sing to them, to read and comfort them, they'd find a new moon to orbit their sun.

I am reminded of a quote from a movie we watched recently where the main character says, "In a room full of people, I have never felt so alone." Many times, I feel just that-- like I am in a room full of people who are happy and confident and going on with life without me while I feel as though all of the light of the world has been snuffed out and I am struggling to find my way back in the darkness.

I don't want to be forgotten. I think that is what is troubling me so much-- I want to be somebody, to do something, to be remembered for more than just being a mother. I agonize over being asked what it is that I "do". I dread being asked that and when I am confronted with that awful question I almost feel like apologizing for it-- sorry, I'm just a Mom. That's all I "do". And though there are many women that are proud of the title 'mother' and rightly should be since it is such an important job, I feel like I want more in life than just that role and title.

Through thinking of this and what it is that has been troubling me, I have come to the realization that I am not a very good mother, nurturer, care giver. I recognize that I am selfish with my time, that I want to be "me" a little too much, though I don't even know who "me" is any more.

Don't get me wrong, I love the children.

 I do.

 But there is a lot of regret, a lot of unfulfilled wishes and dreams behind all of that too.

I regret not learning culinary arts when I had the chance because I was scared of the instructor and thought I couldn't do it.

I wish I had traveled the world and learned more about the history and the story of different architectural wonders as well as the local people and their rulers and the cultures they were surrounded by.

I would love to learn to speak another language fluently instead of grasping at straws because I know a few phrases but not enough to communicate with any one.

I yearn to write a book that will do well-- not for monetary reasons but because I want to leave my mark on this earth when I am dust once more. But I am afraid to keep writing because simply put, everyone and their dog is writing. Someone always knows someone who has written a book or is writing a book or who has a blog or who writes articles. It's no longer something distinguished-- it's like saying I drank a glass of water today-- nearly everyone has done that.

Not only is the writing thing troubling me, but I also want to learn to sew, to garden, to decorate cakes, write calligraphy, draw, paint, make stained glass, swim successfully without doggy paddling, learn to do mathematics with ease, fix a car, hang a picture straight, use a table saw, build furniture, reupholster my couches, run a full marathon, etc... There simply isn't enough time in the day-- and it feels like time is flying by faster than ever now.

I know there will come a time when the kids go back to school and I will have time to do those things-- they won't be little forever. But there is this sinking feeling that I am losing me while I am janitor, chauffeur, housekeeper, maid, laundress, chef, nurse and general gopher for them.

I know there will be people who read this and think that I am selfish and that I should enjoy spending time with my children while they still want to spend time with me. I agree. I know I should, but when you are in a state of mourning for yourself and in the thick of things with depression, logic is thrown out the window.

Just feel better!-- you might say. Stop thinking about those things! Just be happy!

Easier said than done.

But I am trying. Every day I try to do a little better, to forget about me for this space of time and to let my children wish and dream because right now it is their time to explore this world.

And while I am trying to be there for my two impressionable little babies, I also try to carve out time for me so I can continue to be strong for them. I think that is why my current goal of training for a half marathon is so important to me-- because it will be an accomplishment just for me. A goal that I've been working towards and living for that will strengthen me and in turn strengthen my family.

So, if you find me reading in between nap times or holed up "using" the bathroom when I'm really trying to skim a paragraph or two, or catch me trying a new recipe or see a calligraphy set scattered among scrap paper, just know that I am trying to retain a little of "me" too.

How do you make time for yourself?

What do you do when you feel like you are forgetting who you are?