Sunday, July 24, 2016

For the fucking sake of it

What should I do?

Many years ago, a beautiful lady whom I have never met or knew about gave me a beautiful set of earrings and a scarf as gifts and wrote a small note, to never stop blogging. At that time in life, I just thought, that is a crazy thought. I thought to myself, it wouldn't happen and it couldn't happen because I wouldn't and couldn't function as a person without writing things down. I even promised her it would never happen.

Fast forward to many years later, I'm in Australia now, a wife and a mother. Life has changed for me like night and day, like Spring and Winter and a cheap bag and a luxury bag. I have changed - as in I am still the same hippy in heart but my stance in life has changed. I still talk about sex, I still feel like I'm a relationship guru, I still feel in my very elements but I have changed. As in, I am a mother now and being a mother has changed me. There's something about me that can't put things in words and that's something even my capability to illustrate my emotions, stops me from doing so. It's like this writer's block that is going on for years and no, nothing is igniting the flame.

I am a mother. My focus at this moment is setting up a million task for my daughter to enjoy and enrich herself. I am a wife. My focus at this moment is making sure my husband is fed well, and loved much. I am a friend. My focus at this moment is to maintain friendships, and keep gaining new friends in this new area we moved to. I am a sister. My focus at this moment is the 216 Viber messages I need to get on to. I am a daughter. My focus at this moment is to call my parents often enough to remind them I haven't forgotten them. I am a daughter in law. My focus at this moment is to let my parents-in-law know all is good. I am me. A woman who struggles to keep a clean hair and a clean house. I am me. A woman who has long kept herself beside herself and become a family woman.

I am me. I am a woman currently trying so hard to string words together. I am me. A woman eyeing all the luxury handbags. I am me. A woman struggling with an officially-undiagnosed-self-diagnosed secondary fertility issues, which no one seems to fathom but every time I get a negative pregnancy test, I am in denial and every time I get my period, I cry. A woman who mellows down with a broken heart when people ask about siblings for my daughter. No, it's not something I don't have to worry about and yes, now is the best time, not then and not later. A woman who has been stress eating from real life financial strains 101 for real as an adult and daily life struggles.

So writing has been at the furthest, most darkest and most neglected part of my brain.

Confidence is also an issue. How much would one want to read about how my nearly two and a half year old can tell all her shapes, and colours, and count and say her alphabets in jumbles and sing many songs? When I read blogs about mothers going on about their kids, I get bored easily. And now that's the story of my life. If I were to write, I would write about how my daughter told me the best way to pick up our neighbour's very stressed rabbit is by using a towel to wrap him around to pick him up, so he doesn't bite my hand. Wouldn't that bore you?

And this is why I stopped writing. I stopped because I started living in reality and life was no longer a fantasy.

Today, someone told me, get my act together and just "fucking write" and so here I am. Just for the fucking sake of it.