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Saturday
May022009
Just that kind of day
May 2, 2009
Today I emerged from the cave of my soul in the worst funk of the era.
I tried all my tricks, friends. I made coffee. I cleaned. I picked up my knitting and stared at it and then frowned at it and contemplated throwing it across the room. I lay and cuddled small people, because sometimes that works. And then sometimes I just feel angry that I am responsible for people and no one is responsible for me.
It was a funk.
I moved to confession.
I confess that I am jealous of those with plenty of time to spare.
I confess that I am ungrateful.
I confess that I'm a jerk. (That's not a real confession! That's like when you were in the sixth grade and you used to say, "Well, SorryforLIVING," but you weren't actually sorry for living, you just wanted someone to tell you that you didn't need to be sorry for living. )
I confess that I'm being selfish and childish. (That's more like it, Love.)
This is opposite day. No Grace in Small Things here. Just a mum who threw her hands up this very evening and said, "I need a grownup here!" (You are a grownup.) "No, I need a different grownup. A more grownup grownup."
I do have a cute story for you, though. Two cute stories.
I was lying down with Solo and Leafy today, asking Leafy for definitions of things, which I do occasionally, ever since I discovered that I love his definitions. I thought his definitions might de-funkify me.
It started with fog : "A kind of smoky cloud."
Smoke? "Something that touches the ground and the sky."
A sweater? "Something we put on our heads and our bellies and it makes us warm."
A brick? "Something that is heavy."
A Mama? "A shark mama? Or a guy mama?" A guy mama. "A guy mama is someone... who lives in a house.... and plays... and cooks and snuggles."
Exactly. Sort of. So what is the problem?
*
Becca and Cat and Renee are back from their trip to a wildlife reserve and other stuff. They arrived dirty and tired and we hugged them. And they told us about Becca in the night, chilly though they were in Delhi, scrounging around in that half asleep way for something to cover herself with. They were all sleeping in one bed.
She grabbed ahold of the lungi that was on Cat and pulled. Cat said, understandably, "Hey, that's mine." Becca shot her a wild-eyed look, then took a small corner of it and smoothed it gently over her knee. In the morning when they all woke up, Becca was wearing pants on her arms.
"Why do I have pants on my arms?" she must have wondered.
It makes me laugh.
*
Oh friends. Am I content with my lot? Or am I just faking it? Does it matter? Does anything matter?
Apparently it is time for bed. Time for oblivion and no more questions and plenty of hours between here and the space I will occupy in the morning. Plenty of time to be made new again.
All my love. Goodnight.
I tried all my tricks, friends. I made coffee. I cleaned. I picked up my knitting and stared at it and then frowned at it and contemplated throwing it across the room. I lay and cuddled small people, because sometimes that works. And then sometimes I just feel angry that I am responsible for people and no one is responsible for me.
It was a funk.
I moved to confession.
I confess that I am jealous of those with plenty of time to spare.
I confess that I am ungrateful.
I confess that I'm a jerk. (That's not a real confession! That's like when you were in the sixth grade and you used to say, "Well, SorryforLIVING," but you weren't actually sorry for living, you just wanted someone to tell you that you didn't need to be sorry for living. )
I confess that I'm being selfish and childish. (That's more like it, Love.)
This is opposite day. No Grace in Small Things here. Just a mum who threw her hands up this very evening and said, "I need a grownup here!" (You are a grownup.) "No, I need a different grownup. A more grownup grownup."
I do have a cute story for you, though. Two cute stories.
I was lying down with Solo and Leafy today, asking Leafy for definitions of things, which I do occasionally, ever since I discovered that I love his definitions. I thought his definitions might de-funkify me.
It started with fog : "A kind of smoky cloud."
Smoke? "Something that touches the ground and the sky."
A sweater? "Something we put on our heads and our bellies and it makes us warm."
A brick? "Something that is heavy."
A Mama? "A shark mama? Or a guy mama?" A guy mama. "A guy mama is someone... who lives in a house.... and plays... and cooks and snuggles."
Exactly. Sort of. So what is the problem?
*
Becca and Cat and Renee are back from their trip to a wildlife reserve and other stuff. They arrived dirty and tired and we hugged them. And they told us about Becca in the night, chilly though they were in Delhi, scrounging around in that half asleep way for something to cover herself with. They were all sleeping in one bed.
She grabbed ahold of the lungi that was on Cat and pulled. Cat said, understandably, "Hey, that's mine." Becca shot her a wild-eyed look, then took a small corner of it and smoothed it gently over her knee. In the morning when they all woke up, Becca was wearing pants on her arms.
"Why do I have pants on my arms?" she must have wondered.
It makes me laugh.
*
Oh friends. Am I content with my lot? Or am I just faking it? Does it matter? Does anything matter?
Apparently it is time for bed. Time for oblivion and no more questions and plenty of hours between here and the space I will occupy in the morning. Plenty of time to be made new again.
All my love. Goodnight.
Reader Comments (14)
Umm. I think I know how you feel and it is wonderful how sleep is a restart button of sorts. I blame days like this on hormones, or the changing moon or a combination of them both. I walk through them a bit perturbed, and blind, knowing that I won't feel like that forever. "This is not true" is my mantra. I do wonder though at the time, as you do, my friend, that those are the days when I am not blind, but really see. But of course that doesn't make it good, or better, or more loving, so it must not be true, and it is just another thing to stumble over in the dark, until a new day dawns and I feel better. Much love to you and yours.
Will it come across as insensitive if I say that your "bad day" posts make me feel warm and fuzzy? I've been peeking through your archives lately, feeling a wee bit jealous of your writing ability (in a good way, I promise) and coming away from your entries feeling much more inspired to live my life with intention. I understand oh-so-well the struggle of loving my precious children and husband while pining for the time and space to write, to be creative... and how grace can feel too lofty to apply to dirty floors. The funk and I, we're well acquainted. It helps to meet other victims of the funk, though, especially ones who haven't just retreated into a dark corner to hiss at the world. Thank you for writing about it with such beautiful honesty.
So, the "Am I just faking it? Am I content with my lot?" question is my ever so often creeping nightmare thought. Most days, I am, but I do have THOSE days, too, where I'm doubting...is this it? Is this happiness, or am I so sad and desperate? Probably both, the human condition.
I don't really know.
But thank you for sharing.
Peace.
I've got one for you (kids' definitions). Son #2 this morning on seeing me snuggled under a mohair rug, asked what kind of animal does mohair come from? Son #3 answered "A mo".
Are you just faking it? I often wonder the very same thing. So I remind myself of something learned very long ago.....fake it till you make it. Sounds so cliche but for me, it is so incredibly important. Because until I can *feel* that level of knowledge, that leve of comfort, that level of peace, I fake it like it is already there. Eventually it comes. And then I know... Love your journey....
Sounds like a perfectly normal response to everyday life as a young mother.
Oh, and I'm also certain that if you look carefully enough you will find Suse's son's "Mo" grazing on one of your mountains there, patiently growing his hair for the next snuggly blanket which will be imported to Australia.
P.S. I do believe it may be limerick time again. What do you reckon?
Oh Rae.
Last night, as I was leaving the house for a virtually unheard of night out alone, with an hysterical 5 year old hanging on to me and a baby who wasnt asleep although he should have been and a 3 year old close to becoming upset because of his brothers, I yelled 'There is no ME anymore! Why can't I have just a little bit of my SELF left? Why can't I even leave the house???'. But then I did go, and the boys were fine and my husband got them all to bed peacefully (ish) and everything was alright again.
And if I think to much about it, the fact that I am the grown up terrifies me, and I think 'Crikey, who is in charge of this ship??', but when it comes down to it, I'll just keep loving my family and doing the best I can. Which is what I suspect you do, and which I suspect you do a really, really good job of.
Eva
Been feeling that way lately too - a little out of sorts, with no apparent reason for it, except just feeling stuck. Feel like so many of the things I want to do, I cannot do right now. It's all about timing I know, but still does not keep the frustation from rising up within me.
Perhaps later in the year things will change.....
thank you for sharing and being so honest. I feel that way sometimes (wishing someone was responsible for me) and I don't even have any kids. It's so honest. it makes me feel less guilty and more connected and human.
Such is life..we all have hard days like the one you described...a high school chum used to say "mamma said there'd be days like this, she just didn't tell me there'd be so many". Thankfully, they pass and each day is a new beginning. But while we're in the funk, I think we just need to experience it-- to live it-- before we come out on the other side. It's in those funky times we are stretched and we grow in grace and faith...hard as they are, seems they are necessary. Go ahead and have a good cry while you're there--it seems to wash away a lot of stuff.
Ah yes. I have had days like this, and recently too. Going to bed and getting some sleep usually helps me the most, but my kids are a bit older now so it's more possible. Here's to an end of funk, and joy coming in the morning.
Such an honest, beautiful post. Do you know how comforting it is to know that there is someone else out there who has these thoughts? Thank you for sharing yours.
Is anyone ever content? I think it is the human condition! Trying to over come that feeling is the journey that is important.
We are all on it, sometimes we need a bit more support. I am not very adult for 31 but if you ever need another adult, all be it a far away one, i woulde be happy to oblige!
Abs x
I've had that funk. It hasn't left yet, even though I fully confessed to being selfish. I'm trying for perspective.