The good news: I’m getting the hang of this work thing. Since I started my full-time job, my kids don’t seem to miss me as much as I imagined they would. (!!!) Of course my man is still home to take care of them and the permanency of the situation has not quite sunk in yet but still, so far, so good.
Then there’s the other kinds of news. The first thing to go was the writing. I used to write for three hours a day if the girls were in school; now, I grab five minutes here and there if I can. This just doesn’t add up.
There’s also little time for reading or responding to friends’ blogs or even responding to comments. One dear blogging friend sent me a message asking if she had said something to offend me, and even real-time friends wait for weeks for me to return a phone call.
I have not exercised for a week. I swear, I hear the hissssssssss of inflation down there.
And for the last month, I have not participated in my home life. Remnants of meals I wasn’t here for pile up in the refrigerator and a fuzz of dust covers everything in the house. At the end of the day I can’t hear what my family is saying: I’m stone deaf tired. I don’t even participate in my own dreams. In dreams I am other people, a bodiless observer or a character I’ve never met, so even when I’m sleeping, I’m not fully present.
I would like to report a sighting: a personality I haven’t seen for many years has just risen to the surface. This character smiles a lot and speaks in a cheery voice and walks briskly, a little wind-up-toy. She no longer stares at walls or turns up the music or forgets to bathe, no, she has resurrected her talent for looking busy. She has a bladder of steel, makes self-deprecating jokes and a lot of small talk, and eats from tupperware with a plastic fork.
She doesn’t even fucking swear. Who is this person and how long will she be staying? Friends: My body has been hijacked by a woman in a short skirt and a long jacket. Shhh! Here she comes. She’s tapping her watch and digging her heel into the carpet. She doesn’t have time for any of this shit.
(I miss you all. I miss myself. Most of all, I miss writing. I’d donate eggs or scrub toilets or let you chop off my little finger with a butcher knife if I could have those fifteen hours a week back. Meanwhile, Facebook’s COO Sheryl Sandberg’s memoir Lean In is selling like a generic over-the-counter mommy’s-little-helper and I have to go pack a lunch and iron my pants for tomorrow.)
How many personalities do you have? Which ones do you like?
Do you work full-time and continue to write/make art and, if so, how do you do it?