A quick note before you read on - I wrote this after a very dark couple of weeks. I've made some changes in my life that have made things better. Time will tell, but so far I'm happier.
You see me in the street and you think I'm just another mum.
Just one more woman doing housework all day, going to the supermarket and playing with her child. Going to playdates to chat with other mums about the cute things my child has done.
You ask me what I do and I tell you, but all you hear is - 'just another mum'. Perhaps because your eyes have already glazed over before I even begin. You don't hear that there's more, because you're so stuck on the 'at home' part.
You see me reading stories and playing trains and making animal noises and you think this is what I do all day. You assume I'm happy here.
When you see me out without my child, you think I'm doing well. You think I'm grateful for the break, that it's good for me to get out of the house. You really do think I should be grateful.
You see me, but you don't.
Here's what you don't see.
You don't see that I'm a person with dreams, with ambitions, goals and desires. That this, being a mum, is just one part of it.
You don't know that I feel as though making one more animal noise, taking another toy train through its tunnel, could make me snap. I might just scream if I have to do this one more time.
You don't see that I cried for an hour today. And yesterday. And that I will again tomorrow. You don't know that I feel trapped here.
You don't know that I'm out without my child because I planned it a month ahead of time. That, even then, my plans fell through and I had to race around this morning rearranging things. Because if I don't have this one thing I've been looking forward to for a month, I don't know what I'll be left with.
You don't know that I used to be you. That I, too, once thought as you do about people like me. That I'm still trying to shake that feeling, that I need to shake it in order to be happy.
And your glazed eyes don't help.
Megan
Wow - eyes are not glazed here. xo
ReplyDeleteNor are my eyes glazed. I really try to see people for who they are now because I feel the same way Megan...in every way. A beautifully written and you have spoken to my heart too. I too need to shake it. So wonderful to be on the journey together. xxxxx
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post Megan. i totally understand how you felt, when you wrote it. I hope you're feeling much better now xoxox
ReplyDeleteI think many of us know how you feel Megan. I hope that you are in a better place now. xo
ReplyDeleteCan you read my mind? Exactly how I feel too. Great post.
ReplyDeleteThis is a recurring theme for me, and for every mum I know. I laughingly call it an "identity crisis" to my childless friends, who don't believe me when I tell them "I cried for an hour today" because I am so calm and happy when they see me with my two adorable children. My amazing husband supports me through every insecure sobbing episode, where I bemoan the fact that I have no time to pursue all these amazing dreams, and will not have the time for the next 5 years at least. (where were all these dreams when I had the time I ask myself....oh yes....I had a life, that's right!) Little wonder that so many mums connect in the blogosphere, and get through the mummy years any way we can. Just because we feel like this (and want to scream over making animal noises) doesn't mean we love our children less, it just shows the sacrifices we are willing to make for them. Chin up love, you are doing a great job. I love your blog and read it first whenever I log on, I really relate to your views, and you have inspired me to start writing some of my own stuff. But slowly. I can't figure out how to sign into my google, otherwise I wouldn't be anon here. My first comment ever.
ReplyDeleteAh, no longer anon. Figured it out.
ReplyDeleteDays like these that stretch into weeks are very hard, I feel for you. Glad to read you've been making some positive changes since writing the post.
ReplyDeleteAre you in my pocket? I hear you. xx
ReplyDeleteI hear you, just add a giant scoop of guilt for me for going to work and using crèche two days a week, but of course, I can't be doing any 'serious' stuff, after all, I am a Mum, and my brain left with the placenta.
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness. your words capture it exactly. Exactly. Those are the words I would love to be able to say, perhaps I shall direct people to your blog and they can read for themselves... thankyou
ReplyDeleteHave never been able to put it into words like you have. It's even harder to deal with when it is relatives with the glazed eyes.... & the questions, "What DO you DO all day?" Ummm, hello! Come back and ask me that again when you have your own children, then we'll talk!
ReplyDeleteyou absolutely are more than "just another mum" don't ever forget that!
ReplyDeleteVery well put
I hear you. You have put so well into words how many of us feel or heave felt.
ReplyDeletexxx
This will make a brilliant introduction to your book. That, and a kleenex-must-have caveat. x
ReplyDeleteNo such thing as just another Mum.
ReplyDelete