Well, I'm speechless. Not really, of course. But the sentiments of the two Anonymi (?) and my Aunt Sheila took me by surprise and have had me thinking much of the day. This is waaaaay off track in terms of what I am supposed to be writing about here. Or is it? I am supposed to be using this blog to make myself write, right?, and if I have a really strange way of viewing myself at this point in time, then that might have something to do with what and how I am writing, right? I know. It's a stretch. But why does everyone else in the world (or two Anonymous comment-leavers and my aunt) feel that the layers they are adding are all good, while I feel mine are obscuring me?
The truth is: I'm not sure. But I do know that lately I have been feeling beaten down by my many roles and often long for what I remember as a simpler time, before I was so responsible for other people's lives, although this is a trick of memory, this rewriting of history as seamless and clean. I didn't spend my twenties and half of my thirties in a state of grace; it just feels like that when it is, yes, 12:55 in the morning, and I am sitting typing like a madwoman at my computer because the last half hour has been the first time all day I have actually had to myself, and even now, I again hear Annika stirring in her room, and I will soon go to her and comfort her, and I will lie down and close my eyes and it will be five hours later and Lily's face will appear next to mine and her voice, a voice I love but not so much at six in the morning, will say: Mama? What's for breakfast?
I agree with my commenters, after all. My layers are essential. They are part of who I am, and I would not peel them away even if I could. Who would I be, after all, without them now? Not a mother, not a writer, not a wife, not a teacher, not an adult, not a person with many more layers to add. But still, I am wistful. Fewer layers means less complication. More sleep. More time. More me. And here we are again. Back where I started. Still working this one out.
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4 comments:
Oh, Amy, I completely understand what you were suggesting in yesterday's post but I also agree with the anonymous commenter. Is it semantics? The layers v. roles and responsibilities wording? Layers are interesting, whereas roles and responsibilities can feel overwhelming, sometimes underwhelming, and decidedly UNinteresting at times.
You know I am completely challenged by the different roles I play for the different people in my life. Oh, and for me too. Because I do have to remind myself that I do create and make choices within those different roles. I have to remind myself of that a lot.
And another thing (while I'm out here from underneath the bed), the elusive simple life wasn't as simple as you remember it to be, in hindsight. Back to the dust bunnies...xo
I didn’t comment yesterday because Anonymous #1 said it perfectly. That said, I think your current wistfulness is human nature. In 10-15 years, you’ll be wistful for this time, when your babies are young and sweet and so in love with you, while mentally bypassing the physical strain and challenge of the schedule that is your lot currently. And, I do wonder, if you didn’t have the existing complexities of your life, would there would be others? Far be it for me to say, but I don’t ever see you sitting on the couch eating bonbons! Is it possible that you actually thrive with this level of activity? I believe you have documented a successful propensity to complete assignments just prior to deadlines? Perhaps, in spite of how hard it seems, this is how full you have decided your life must be in order for you to do your best work? :)
I like this post a lot. Captures the complexities
You know, I was surprised by the comment on the "layers" post, and I went back and reread it--as I have just done again--and I do not find you saying that the layers are bad, or that in peeling them back what appears is better or even preferable. You simply talk about seeing glimpses of an "original self" which is/ was temporary and true, therefore sad and joyful. You also do not say that you wish you had no layers or that you wish you could stop adding layers. You said, instead, that you might like not to add any more "unnecessary layers," which by their very definition are not the enriching kind.
So I think you were saying something else altogether, something that reached back for the people we used to be, acknowledging that they can be hard to find or see, and that seeing those original selves is sad and joyful. Now I'm going in a circle, but I just thought what you were saying was a little more subtle than "simpler was better, now is too layered."
But clearly, you touched a nerve . . .
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