I don’t remember being depressed in the summer. January, February are the hard ones. What I remember is being extremely bored during my junior-high summer vacation. I find some similarities between that long-ago-summer and this one. Not my boredom is heavy. Jackie’s vacation and socializing needs on top of our diverse and time-sensitive projects.
Here I am, treading water, it would seem. I told my husband I feel down, overwhelmed. Speaking it outloud gave me a leg up. He is wonderfully understanding in such situations, and I didn’t even take advantage of it too much in this decade of sharing life together.
We’ve put a nice bow on many projects (though August came like a storm with many deadlines) and the finality of them has had the opposite expected effect on me. Also, entering a season of normality in parenting, of day-in and day-out, of tantrums and defiance, of familiarity… yup, the routine is what kills you, not the drama!
I feel uninteresting, unchallenged in the exciting ways, my ideas fall flat because of late I haven’t had the chance to read any cool, engaging books.
In a month will start to give a series of paid talks, reviving as-it-were, my experience as a trainer, lead Creative and coach. I’m nervous. But that feels good. In the meantime I am sewing a new collection of aprons which was provoked by a client who twisted-my-arm to revive the sewing. But this is not what I wanted to talk about, starting this post.
Yesterday I went to a HUGE wedding. A reunion of sorts, two decades of relationships. With some people it came so natural to pick up where we left a decade and a half ago. With others, the recent distance felt cold, uncomfortable. It appears that the social media that many keep up with, only gives us the impression that we already know everything that is to know, so there is nothing left to say.
I wonder what would draw me back, other than my sheer willpower. I want my heart to pull me into contexts and relationships. But such is the way of sabbaticals. We get used to extended silence, away from people, away from demanding social schedules.
I miss the people we shared some lovely memories with. I wonder if they blame us for letting our being the glue dry.
On the other hand I realize we have arrived on the other side of the social spectrum. We are parents. Parents of a demanding child that I can’t drag with me places because she has needs, preferences, demands and desires.
A very long time ago we went to a birthday party with mostly parents. We were going through a rough season in life, and that party was terribly uncomfortable (I wanted to run away). Today we are the parents and all our childless or single friends have different, more flexible schedules, or different, more engaging conversation topics. Who knows…
I have forgotten how to engage in deep conversations. Lack of practice… kids interrupting. Whatever the reason…
We’ve been parents for only ten months… and we’ve changed. We miss making our own schedule, but of course we don’t regret it. Under no circumstance could we go back to the easy undisturbed clean life. Our house is a mess and though we tidy it up every day, with Jackie’s help who has an eye for cleanliness, we seem to have to do it properly every day. Two adults and a dog were a lot neater.
We have less guests, we host less events, except the playdates with little people… Jackie loves company. A lot.
We’ll be gone most of August. My hope is that as fall begins, maybe we’ll start anew. Regular and social.
We’re coming home (to California:) for Christmas, and that’s something to look forward to. Maybe it will remind us some essential things.
