“It’s 2016.” I hear people say this as if everything is supposed to just be better now.
We’re expected to just have evolved with it, but instead, we are left behind trying out our new ideas, like masks in a mirror, running and guessing. None of them fit, and all of them are criticized for not being enough or being too much.
It’s complicated.
“You CAN have it all.” I hate hearing that. It’s a lie. No one can have their cake and eat it too. No one I know, at least. I’ve lamented over the struggle I face- this dilemma to be home and just enjoy the time with my family, my daughter who will only be five ONCE. Or, should I plug away at work, cutting, pasting, typing endless letters into the keyboard, and hope that each one will bring me closer to the end of the rainbow?
I curse my computer screen, and my eyes and neck ache with fear that I’m investing in the wrong thing. But somehow, it’s Friday again, and I’ve made it. Did I make the right choices? I glance at my daughter’s empty stare out the window. What did I miss? Will I look in the rear view mirror of life and regret that I wasn’t there?
And so, this imbalance of tension, this constant throbbing stress, it’s what defines my life. I can’t look up for advice- they have money, time, stability- a house, relatives. I have none of that. I look to my side and strap myself in for the long hours. I will always be wanted and never be able to satisfy anyone, including myself.
A mother isn’t a mother unless she’s martyred. Unless she’s given every ounce of her sanity and freedom, bore the blame for her child’s mistakes and shouldered all her shortcomings, unless she’s overlooked at work and underappreciated, she’s not a mother.
But, Why?
These impossible demands don’t give relief when they are achieved, they leave us weary and doubting, frustrated and dissatisfied, because we know it’s never the end of the trail, there will only be more.
My sanity is sustained by few things. dawn, running, friends, the kitchen. But since all of these things take effort or too much time, I find this one thing as my saving grace:
Being in the moment.
I bring it all to a halt when the train is out of control and force myself to stop- even if it is 5 minutes only.
The other day, my neck was aching with stress. Hunched over my dreams and the computer for too long, my anxious kindergartner lolled about my classroom declaring supreme boredom and neglect. I glanced at her. The grocery store was waiting for us, it was already 4 p.m. and I hadn’t moved an inch on my to-do list. But I knew what I needed to do.
I closed Google Docs and clicked on one of our favorite songs – Je Te Veux. I stretched out over two chairs and pulled her onto my lap. We stared at the ceiling and let the music swim and swirl into our hair and breath. She held up two fingers and conducted the music. And I told myself, remember this forever. And I wrote in my secret diary ( my mind, which will fail me one day)- Dear darling, you enjoy classical music. You hum melodies and conduct orchestras. You can see and hear the beauty of strings, wind and percussion. Together, we drift along, and whisper “I love yous” to one another. This is our secret place- music.
For a moment, nothing else mattered. It was a breath of life. And though certain, tonight stress and worry will come and crash my dreams, I will not regret the unfinished tasks or the fact that the fridge is still empty. Fear and promises will pound on my door, and I will trip over every task, get angry and cry, but I know, Somehow, I will arrive, and it will be friday again.
And no, i will not regret, because I was there.
They are gone.
Not The Time and Place 