Lately, everything has been a challenge. And ever so irritating, writing is one of those challenges. I’m hoping that putting pen to paper (then transferring online) will allow my creativity to flow more freely. However, I’m pretty sure one of my kids (most likely the youngest) will snatch my pen and take over the pages with his works for art.
I know there are parents out there who are very diligent about teaching their children to respect “mommy and daddy’s” items. Where as, I am not one of those parents. And, I’m sure many parents have experienced the sticky hand toddlers have when they see something of interest in their parent’s possession. For instance, this pen I’m using. It is apparently calling out my younger son’s name. “Come here little guy. Grab me. Mommy doesn’t need this, you do.” Okay, I should explain to my son that I am currently using this pen. Yet, I simply hand it over and grab a new one. This is a daily ritual rather it’s my book, food, remote control, make-up, etc.
Their little world is the center of my universe. The older they grow, the boundaries of life become more visible. Maybe that is why I’ve had such a hard time remaining an individual when for so long, I am all theirs. I want them to live in a world that brings them happiness and endless amount of love and attention. A constant reminder flashes in my mind, “They’ll grow up before you know it.” Therefore, I want to let them live in an universe that caters to them. They learn to respect and have manners. But, if they are begging for attention while I’m reading a book, trying to eat a meal, or cleaning, their life isn’t put on hold. It is mine. The laundry can wait. The bed can be made later. My child wants to he held, needs a specific toy, put together a puzzle, or simply talk. I became a mom to be their universe. Maybe its time for my depression about self-identity to wilt away. This is the life I choose and I don’t want my children raised any other way. My ability to be a parent has room for improvement.
I don’t think I’ll ever determine the root of my depression and it could be that I’m not supposed to. I need to take a new approach to living life with depression. Once I focus on my depression or an incident happens that provokes my sorrow, my thoughts become obsessed with solving the issue, figuring out why it happened, and how to prevent it. Then, before I know it, I’m struggling to complete daily task. Perhaps, it is time to simply accept what comes my way and move on.
I have to say, maybe this “pen to paper” approach will help, after all!