May 2014 Archives


| | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
"For what is joy, if it is un-recorded and what is love, if not shared?"

A quote from season 3 finale of Call The Midwife. In agreement with that, I find myself having a lot of regret about not recoding more of my thoughts while raising my kids. Time is flying by. Fast.

Yesterday I told Mike that I now realize that raising my children is the best thing I have ever done. Of course, that is a common thought. But I mean that, in comparison to my career or my travels or any good thing I have ever done, I now realize that this is the most valuable thing I have ever done for the world, in general and it is the thing I have been most good at, simply because it is a job I have held longer than any other. Ironic, after all I have thought previously.

Being a mom is not what I thought. It's more intense. The hours are longer. The reward is invisible to everyone except the person doing it. There's no glory. And people who don't do it full time really don't know what it's like any more than I know what it's like to be a working mom or a single guy at 40 years old. Doing it while divorced is not the same either. I'm not saying it's harder, just that it is not the same. There is a monotony that is fought against, a consistency that is longed for and a loneliness that occurs without warning in stark contrast to the fact that you are never, ever, alone or without tasks to do.  I love my job. But it IS a job. The lack of respect for the intelligence it takes to be a good stay at home parent is astounding.

So I record it today. 
Best job I ever had. It defies logic. It humbles me. It makes me feel more in place than I have ever felt before. I got this right.

Possible Return

| | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
Screen Shot 2014-05-17 at 8.30.04 PM.pngI might be getting back to writing. Might. BIG MIGHT. I hate promising and not delivering. But the last year I have written hardly anything. I guess I finally reached a point in my life when I couldn't share. 

I've been reading my old stuff. Reminiscing. Once in a while I read something and I am shocked. I find a gem under some unfamiliar title and I think "I wrote that?" 

Writing. Therapy. Same thing. I guess I haven't wanted to go to therapy for a while. Anyway, if you are out there reading, Hello from the edge.

Here's some insight I wrote back in December 2002.
"My theory is that writers write because they have no where else to go with the thoughts and feelings inside them. We spend all day being whatever kind of person we deemed will get us by without being locked up. And then we come to the keyboard or the journal, the pen and we dissolve into the blank space, filling it with truths; what really happened, what we really saw."