Sunday, October 19, 2014
I find it so tricky to balance the dreamy, withdrawn, almost trance-like state I'm in when I'm writing, with the quick, super alert (stressed), one-step-ahead-of-them state that I have to be in to look after my kids. Sometimes I feel like I'm physically present but my head, and even heart, is somewhere else. I guess all mums (and some dads too) struggle with balancing their own preoccupations with the requirements of their children, but I frequently feel so distracted by the fictional world that I want to inhabit and explore, that I wonder whether I'm just this replica mum, doing the things I need to do, but otherwise emotionally absent. I've been finding time (hey, who needs sleep?) everyday to be on my own for a while: it's kind of addictive because it feels so amazing to have that space. It seems to mean that I can be more fully present the rest of the day, although not all days are as successful as others. My minds wanders a lot and I often have to pull myself back to the here and now; to a small insistent voice asking me a question, or explaining something that happened to them; to focus on the details, the little things that can easily pass me by. I want to be be in this real world and I want to be in the other world of my imagination. Sometimes I feel so tired, endlessly trying to move between the two, but I know I need them both.