It feels so strange to write after such a long time - I had turned my back on writing and now it seems so difficult to turn back. Why was I so lazy and is anyone even interested in knowing?
I just felt I had nothing to say – my self totally submerged in being another person.
I was walking farther and farther away from myself getting totally absorbed and assimilated into being someone else – the mother, who only had thoughts about her child read books regarding only her, all hobbies all activities centered around her.
What time was left, after she slept, squandered away in mindless games, its as if I was running away from thinking or being more. It felt that the only thing I could do well was being a mom and was scared to try to be more, it felt like my natural vocation and became a carte blanche to be nothing else. It felt so safe to be what I instinctively knew how, to do the the first thing I was so good at without it taking massive amount of effort.
I woke up to the slow atrophy of my mind after reading someone else’s innocent remark. Changes that are personal can come from such impersonal sources.
I find that strangely hilarious.
Now it seems that I am back to trying to reclaim some of my old self without feeling guilty.
It was so scary to return to this page like a garden that you had ignored and was now filled with weeds, at the same time I feel excited as well at this tentative reclamation.
It becomes very easy to hide behind excuses, to rationalize why you are wasting away your mind why you are turning your back on growing forward, so easy and safe to lapse into mindlessness after a tiring day….
I feel so exposed right now, my fingers hesitating at the 'publish post' button. That is what writing does…. it brings the mirror forward