Reflections of a tired soul
Listening to my almost 3 year old asking me to play ‘hide & go boo” with him for what seems like the 100th time in 5 minutes, and, after having just finished half an hour worth of the game with both him and his 1 year old brother, was just the thing to almost cause me to completely unravel after an extremely difficult week!
I am one of those people that really love their job, and not only love, but for a few years I was defined by my work, it was who I was, what I was. I wanted to know everything there was to know, learn everything there was to learn, I was ambitious, yearning to reach the top (what ever that meant…)
Almost exactly 5 years ago, when that stick turned blue, my life took on a whole different meaning, a new direction… no longer was I spending every moment worrying about codes, project plans, and timelines; instead every thought was about this creature that I was blessed with.
I can remember precious few details about my life during that first pregnancy; my memories are limited to throwing up, eating crackers, and throwing up some more! But I know that my passion for my work died. I still loved it, and still wanted to work, but the desire to be the best was gone. I know that the change in me was not only because of the baby, it was also because I grew in my faith and love for God around the same time, so my priorities changed, but still, something about being a mother made me suddenly have different goals.
Last week I had one of the most exhausting, challenging, and stressful weeks I have had in years, I felt like I was working non-stop, like I would not meet my deadlines, my eyes were constantly burning, and the guilt of not being able to give my kids more attention was eating away at my soul… But, a part of me was exhilarated! I felt like I had some of that passion back, like I was useful again, like I was needed for more than just dinner!
I loved rushing off to the copy shop to get a catalogue printed for my client, I loved that there was a courier coming to pick it up, and I loved telling the printing people that I was really in a rush! I cannot explain why the feeling of racing home in the minivan, praying that I did not miss the courier (also praying that I don’t get a speeding ticket), was so euphoric, but it was! Of course, when my client called and said that the printed words were too small and needed to be re-done for Saturday morning, the lovely high left me, but I digress…
I am now so torn, so completely confused about life, about who I am and what I am, about what my priorities are. It is obvious that my children should come first, but lately I am starting to doubt my abilities as a successful mother. Is ‘WHAM-ing’ (mother working from home) really possible? I am doubting that I can be a good mother and a good business woman.
There are things that I still love about working, I love doing blogs especially, they are so wonderfully personal, I love getting clients’ ideas and then seeing it become a reality, it is a lovely feeling for me, and something that I would not like to give up.
However, my significantly higher-paying contract position that I recently obtained from my previous employer is totally draining me. I do it only for the financial benefit and have no joy in it, which I have found makes me feel like I am drowning, constantly struggling to stay afloat. It is a job I can do with my eyes closed (metaphorically speaking, of course), but the connection delays, lack of proper support tools, and somewhat confusion from not seeing the whole picture is causing me increased stress and anxiety.
My ideal would be to work only for my enjoyment, and not for money, because the money part is making my shoulders tense, my eyes lose focus, my stomach feel like it is constantly turning over!
I would love to spend my time with my kids and give them 100% of my attention, if only I was not so tired and impatient. I would love to have more inspiring and clever thoughts, if only my head didn’t feel like it was already bursting from too many thoughts. I would love to be working fulltime again, if only it was not so demanding. I would love to do only the things I love; if only I know what they were ... I guess this is the paradox of motherhood.
