Mornings

The first morning of a holiday always fills me up with optimism.
Forget yesterday's post, I. Chipper today!

Tormented

It's been over 6 months since we began the process of "helping Daniel with his challenges". I still don't know what to call "it", and it still brings tears to my eyes when I talk (or write, or read) about "it". 
If I call it a disorder, I feel like I am giving him something too "difficult", if I don't call it anything, I feel like I am covering up or ignoring reality.
My family seems to think I am making too big a deal of it, that Daniel is just a normal, healthy boy with some speech difficulty or delay at worst.
My husband, while not immediately, agrees that the issues are deeper, but still feels and thinks Daniel is more normal than abnormal.
And me?
I am torn between what I want to believe, what the professionals say, and what i know deep inside me to be true....
A mother knows.
Perhaps that is why I keep tearing up. I don't need a tag or a psych report to tell me.

I am on a flight, on my way to a week long vacation with my best girl friend (to an unplanned destination, different than that I was headed to when i left home, but that's a whole other post). A week meant for pure girl fun, shopping, rest.  A vacation that I planned hoping it will recharge me, "get the colors back in my cheeks". I should be on cloud nine (forgive the pun), thinking of nothing but positives.

And yet, here I am, 6 months after it all begun, still tearing up over a disorder/challenge/delay/impairment that my beloved son may or may not have and mourning the loss of the future i had dreamed for him.

 

Being busy, Living life?

I’ve barely been a make-believe columnist for a week, and already I missed a make-believe-deadline. My first one, at that. Sure, I have a million good excuses (reasons! Reasons!) – My son has been very ill, I just started a new role at work, its exam time at University, and the list goes on and on. Then again, real columnists also have excuses (ok, ok, reasons). Real columnist must also have a life (if you can call what I’ve been leading lately, a “life”).


I wonder what happens to real columnist if/when they miss a deadline. I suppose the editor quickly pulls out a backup filler for the column and the publication moves forward on time, the readers barely giving the small switch a second thought. I’ve seen that before, as the reader. What I’m curious about is behind the scenes: does the columnist get fined? Does he/she need to submit the column regardless, a day later (like I am doing here) or can he/she skip a week and just hand in the next column, for the next week. Does the contract state a certain number of times that this is allowed to happen before a pink slip is handed? Interesting.

Interesting, but not really the main topic for today’s column. Today I’m thinking of “life getting in the way”. In the way of living, that is. How many of us go about our routine: wake up, get everyone/everything ready for work/school, go to work, run errands that supposedly keep the world going round (groceries, bank, doctor, gas…) run back home, get everyone/everything ready for bed, sleep (if we’re lucky) – and start all over again…?

How many of us take the time to interweave something *fun* into this routine. Something passionate? And if we do – how much time do we dedicate to this activity…? Come on, be honest with yourself – give me numbers, percentages. How much (percent) of your life do you dedicate to what you love doing, compared to the time you dedicate to what you need (or think you need) to be doing?

It’s an age old question that has been asked a million times by a million people in a million languages. And yet, the amount of people that have a satisfactory (or what I think is a satisfactory) answer is miniscule.

I have also asked myself these questions time and time again. Usually, I just don’t have time to even properly think of an answer, “I’m just too busy”. Then, last week, something made me… stop. My sister in law, a young-beautiful-got-everything-going-for-her mom, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Suddenly, everything that was so urgent and important in life has taken second place to her health. To her life.

When I heard the news, I gasped and I stopped, but only for a minute or two. After all, I had urgent things to take care of – my son was sick, I have a new role at work, its exam time at the University. A column to write. Nevertheless, in the quiet spaces between the noises, I can hear the nagging question that much clearer now... “How much time to I dedicate to… really… living?”

Becoming a columnist - could I?

In a recent conversation with an old friend, we discussed one of our favorite always-interesting-fall-back topics: "If you didn't have to worry about money, what would you do with your life?".

We've been having this discussion on-and-off for 8 years now, and surprisingly, while his responses vary and change (travel around the world, start up a company, have 10 kids, volunteer, open a coffee-shop-library, etc) mine remain fairly static. I'd write. A book, poems, a novel, a column in the newspaper, business analysis papers, technology reviews. What I would write changes from time to time, but I'd always write.

Lately, I keep going back to the newspaper column idea. Not as a new career, but rather as a side-job. (Yes, that's right - *on top* of everything else!). "Wouldn't it be great", I think to myself, "If I were forced to write at least once a week?". "Wouldn't my writing be genial", I ponder, "If I was forced to keep my writing to a limit of 500 words per column? I'd be succinct. Accurate. Pungent."

"You couldn't take it", the little devil on my shoulder interrupts my thoughts. "Your life is too busy, you have a son, a family, a career, university. Where would you fit the time to write a column?".
That devil has a point. My life, sans column writing, is almost to hectic to keep under control as it is. So why take on another commitment? Because I can.

Nevertheless, being the pragmatic (uh mm) woman that I am, I've decided to put the "I can" theory to the test. Columnists for weekly magazines need to submit a 500-word column, every week, by Sunday morning. So, I will too. Every week, I'll post a 500-word column right here, in this blog. No more "now is not a good time" excuses (that's always true), No more "what for?" brakes (what for? It's a test!). Like clockwork, for the entire world to see (but mostly for myself).

What shall I write my column about? The easy answer would be "Me". After all, I know "me" best, and there's always something going on with "me" so I'd never run out of things to write about. However, "me" is a very egotistical topic. Not everyone is interested in "me".
I spend a half-hour thinking up topics for my "column", and eventually come up with the following generic-all-encompassing-yet-specific topic:
"Early mid-life challenges of women in western competitive culture".
In other words - Me!

I have a plan: where to write, what to write about, why I should do it. All that is left now, is to stick with it.
"Great work!", my little devil uncharacteristically encourages me. "So great, in fact, you don't actually have to write today. After all, you already took a step in the right direction by putting this plan in motion. You have an exam coming up on Monday. It's Saturday - a day for resting...".

He almost convinced me, my seductive little devil... but only almost. My first column just wrote itself.

(522 words. See you next week!)

Home and Away

There's things you learn about yourself only when you are removed from your normal day-in-day-out routine.
Things you may have never known, or known but forgotten, about your values, your strengths, your vulnerabilities....

I've been away from home for a week. It's been a productive week, work-wise. It's been a difficult and draining week, too.
But more than anything - it's been an educating week.

I'm headed home now, on the first flight of two - delayed by three ours, my connection about to be missed - and with those things being out my control, I'm trying to just.... be. One of the things I've discovered this week that I actually *can* do, when I choose to.

I'm coming home (eventually) with a rediscovered familiarity of myself.. and I like who I've uncovered in me: not just for the strengths and the securities, but also for the vulnerabilities that I didn't bother covering up.

I am who I am, and it's a good thing.

And with that new found realization - I just want to go home now to my boy, to my man, to my safety zone.

Is the world slowing down?

Is the world slowing down?

Lately I've been coincidentally running into many people from my history... People I hadn't seen in years or even decades - who have given up the fast-paced-ego-driven-pocket-filling lives, for something else.

One, an ex-renown photographer has become a full time volunteer, working with disabled children. He seems more at peace than he ever was.

Another, my ex-boss and a role model for female ambition, up until recently a CEO in a software startup, is learning patisserie and excitedly talking about powdered sugar. (She looks like a million dollars, too).

Another yet has decided to take a few years break in his career and is studying film and art, as well as alternative medicine. He lost a lot of weight.

They all look rested. happy. blissful.

Part on me envies them, and another pities them.

Is the universe trying to tell me something?

Overexposure

Spelled-out
both pain and joy
plainly read
fully digested
for the world to
effortlessly
gulp.

I always forget to
leave something
virgin
between the lines
for me.