This is a resolution post. See, I have lots of goals for this year, lots of little things and lots of "that would be nice" things and some other biggies, too. But as 2014 turned to 2015, the one that stuck in my head the most was that this year more than anything, I need to recapture my creativity. I am lucky beyond belief to be a mom to little H, to be married to someone who still floors me and delights me more than I can possibly express, and to be a successful professional who, although more harried than not these days, is able to find some personal value in her career. I'm so lucky to have all of that and to be able to live comfortably. I know how many are struggling today to get by, which is to say, I don't want to sound like an entitled snob complaining without seeing her privilege. I am lucky and I know it.
But.
I desperately miss my creative outlets. I miss writing. I miss making things for fun - rooms, parties, dinners, moments. Like every other mom on the planet, my time is squeezed more than ever, and for the best of reasons. Every day is a balancing act and every week is an absolute juggle. I've always been happy with that pace - I'm the first to squirm if there's not enough to do. But to do the important things well - to be a good mom and a good partner and a good colleague who manages not to cave into work stress but instead to navigate my team around it - I've dropped this world here, which has always been my special place, just for me. It was a survival decision and it was the right one, given those other biggies being juggled, but that doesn't mean it isn't difficult.
Tonight I was (virtually) home alone - Hazel asleep early with a cold, T at a coffee shop studying for a certification exam, and I cooked, just for me. I made a simple soup - nothing to write home about, although isn't a fresh, simple soup one of the most underrated meals there is? - and the experience was glorious. Cooking slowly, just for me. No timetable, no hungry companions, no recipe. That's the same me who misses this space.
I feel like I'm arriving at a crossroads and an inherent conflict that may well come to pass this year. I carry a level of stress with my day job that is not sustainable for the long haul. There is an end in sight, thankfully, although things will get worse before they get better. But then what? Is that the moment I've been waiting for, when I can recalibrate and bring back some of my interior world? Or will that moment instead be a real break, when I know I've crossed the (long, long, long-awaited) finish line, and I decide to do something entirely different with my life, something that will always give me the ability to maintain a little more interior space?
I don't know. And I'm not there yet, so I don't need to know. But this is coming for me, for 2015. It will either be a turning point or a new agreement with myself. But somehow, some way, I need more words, more air, more light, more spark.
To be continued...
