It’s our responsibility to ask the questions.
X
K
// I always felt I didn’t need to know about the investments, about the money, about the fine lines, about my own health and more. I put this ownice on Vivek. I’m learning now. Everything to do with me and Aru, is my responsibility. And I need to know, I need to be informed.
There was a time in our lives.
When for a week or two,
It was just,
Me & you.
And on a dark Friday,
You had a febrile seizure.
I’d never seen a seizure before.
I thought you could die.
Or get brain damage.
It was the most horrifying experience I’d ever been through.
Watching your body loose control,
Your eyes peering at me in confusion as if to say,
“Why is this happening Maa?”.
I caught you trembling, your eyes dilating.
Beseeching my sister, “What do I do D?”.
After you stopped trembling, my whole body started.
Finally it went through.
You were breathing.
You were breathing.
You were breathing.
8 minutes for the paramedics.
But the worst was over after that.
But I was anew.
Wedded to you in a different way.
Melded even.
And in that fucking moment.
I knew.
I knew that even if I never really understood the word “love”.
If I ever doubted that I loved you.
That I truly loved you and wanted you in my life.
THAT WAS BULLSHIT.
I loved you, breathed you from my deepest insides.
For now, there is a seamless thread in our lives.
You begin where I end.
As if that cord was never cut.
So my dearest Aru.
Don’t you dare go trying to die on me.
Because it really might just be the death of me.
X
K
Do I wait for you to change?
For you to see the light?
For you to feel the feels?
For you to freaking realise what you’ve fucking done?
Because all that waiting means forgiveness.
And I don’t have that.
I just don’t have that.
I have compromise.
That is all I have.
All I owe you.
Everything I owe him.
So if you don’t.
We be gone.
What life would you be living, if you didn’t need someone else’s approval.
For what you studied.
For how much money you made.
For how many nights you went out.
For which bags you bought.
For the food you ate.
For the tidiness you kept.
For what you did during the day.
If you took a pen a paper and thought.
IF NO-ONE ELSE MATTERED
WHAT WOULD I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE.
Would I want to travel and live overseas for a couple of years?
Would I have a bottle of coke every now and then?
Would I buy a $1000 dress instead of 5 $200 ones?
Would I change my career to something which offered less OR more money?
Would I buy an apartment instead of a house?
Would I wear huge earrings and bright pink shoes?
WHO WOULD I BE IF YOUR THOUGHTS WEREN’T IN MY HEAD?
For every daughter.
For every wife.
Let us stop living for their approval and based on their permission.
Let us believe in our own concepts of life and lifestyle and find the mid-way ground or the no-tolerance ground if it is what you truly believe in.
XX
K – still finding her way.
If there is a post you read on motherhood, AND if you’ve struggled with it, then perhaps, let it be this post. If you can heal with me, then I would be honoured and humbled and touched.
NOTE: This is one of the longest posts I’ve ever written (because personally, I don’t have the capacity to read so much myself! So I assume others are similar). But, if you take a pause and find yourself some place comfy to sit, I think you’ll want to read it till the end. Perhaps if you’re a mum or perhaps, if you love and adore another mum, or perhaps if your bestie might have gone through all of this. Or perhaps more so, if you’re like I was, having meetings with the Winner of Telstra Business Woman of the Year and her team, telling them what to do.
Then the next day, wiping Aru’s shit.
Shit happens.
It has taken me 2.5 years of motherhood to recognise, that a lot of the time, I don’t actually want to be with Aru.
I see it as my responsibility.
My obligation.
My duty.
A necessity.
Something I can twist to make it semi-enjoyable.
But do I leave work early in a rush to get to see him?
No.
Do I hope for his bedtime to come soon?
Yes.
And when he sleeps, am I kinda dreading the moment he is going to wake up?
Yes, likely yes.
Have I done just about everything I can to make this journey filled with love and easier?
Yes.
But that doesn’t stop me feeling.
All those feels.
And for the longest time, I’ve denied that feeling.
Why?
Because I thought.
It’s BAD.
It’s WRONG.
To not really want to be there.
So I told myself. I was fine. Happy. Delighted.
Which I was in moments.
Just not mostly.
And I’ve come to know – that I like doing things from a true, sincere place.
Trust me, I will not show up to your party if I really don’t want to.
And when everyone chirps and says, “That dress looks so good on you,” I won’t chirp in if I disagree.
But this is mostly important for the ones I love.
I want to be truest to the ones I love. Love. Love.
And at the core of that.
Is Aru.
My heart and soul intertwined.
Even though it really shouldn’t be.
It is for now.
Being with Aru has so very often felt like doing something I don’t want to do.
A bit like doing the groceries.
Or washing the dishes.
Something you do to keep on going.
But something that is stopping you from doing what you really want to do.
Being with him has always felt less powerful.
Less momentous.
Less meaningful (I’m sad to say).
Dull.
How do you compare that to winning your biggest client ever?
Or hiring a new team member?
Or scoring a new meeting?
These delights don’t come in motherhood.
And I didn’t see him walking as my win.
Him saying his first words weren’t my win.
I saw it all as his.
I didn’t see it as something to brag about.
Share on Facebook or subtly tell my friends about like I’m showing off, but not really?!
Which I do give into by the way. All the time.
And so where am I going with all this?
With peeling open all these layers.
With hurting you and breaking the shell of reality so deep it’s cutting?
How could she not love Aru?
He’s the cutest being under the sun!
Now I know.
True delight.
Isn’t a type you need to share.
Or post.
Or one you count likes for.
There are no notifications for true delight.
And if they are, they’re dinging in your blooming soul.
In the facade of life.
I lost the shine of him.
The only authentic light.
Giving me so much of himself.
That for some reason the universe thought I was good enough to be on the receiving end of it.
And so I strive everyday, to hear my insides, to be a present mum when I am with him. Not seeking distractions or short cuts or time passes.
But just pausing to be.
With him.
To soak him in.
And the magical delight of him.
If it’s stirring dahl in the kitchen.
Or picking blades of grass under the sun.
Maybe one day it might even be getting my hands dirty on a canvas with him.
But for now.
Finding a way to pause.
To stop the escape.
To dwell in those soul notifications of waves of love.
X
K
I didn’t know it. But for the longest time, in so many ways, for so many things, you were my compass.
So much so that our identities started to meld into one.
And so now a decade later.
I have no blame for you.
No victim for me.
Just taking many moments a day to pause.
And ask myself.
Which way is my North.
X
K
I have never been one of those mothers.
The craft + boiled carrots + stay at home type.
I tried and I couldn’t.
In some ways, I went from having meetings with a woman who had won Telstra Business Woman of the Year Award.
To wiping shit.
Literally.
And I would look at other mothers, hear about them on the radio, read articles about them and wonder.
How they do it.
How do they happily do it.
Day in and day out.
And to be honest, I think I’ll be wondering forever.
If I don’t start to feel ok with whom I am.
And accepting that I’m simply different.
And that is perfectly ok.
X
K
Are there signs everywhere?
Signs alerting us to distress.
To awareness.
My sister kindly nudging me with a warning.
A friend observing our behaviour.
My frustration at the little things.
Were they all warnings?
That thankfully, after a while,
Became seeds to larger thoughts of awareness.
That brought on a tiny little fight,
But one we knew we needed help with.
And I pray. Actually, scrap that, I rarely pray.
I send a message to the universe.
I am grateful.
(Just realised, that might be prayer).
I am grateful.
It was a little fight.
Because we never know what the darkness bring.
My one non-negotiable.
X
K
Sometimes I don’t like being with Aru. Usually past the 2-3 hour mark.
Or if he’s being particularly whiny.
I don’t know if that means I dislike parenthood.
I accept parenthood as a responsibility.
But often, I’ll be loving work so much, I won’t even realise it’s time to go pick Aru up.
To me, I was starting to wonder if I actually enjoyed this gig at all.
But yesterday when the cold water waves hit him at the beach, and I could see his hold body pause in reaction, his eyes light up as he decided whether to cry or smile, I knew.
That is enough.
That love, that emotion, that nurturing.
All feels.
Are more than enough.
Love is love my sweet.
Love is love.
X
K
So this is part 2 to the styling experience.
Megan, the stylist, took me on a “shopping experience”.
No need to buy anything, just experience shopping in a different way.
And as we started, she told me about “hangovers from the past”.
Maybe your mum never liked you in sleeveless.
Maybe in the 80s brown skin wasn’t cool, so you needed to cover it up.
Maybe that picture of you jumping with spaghetti straps and a white tee wasn’t so flattering.
Maybe platforms are so 90s.
Maybe long necklaces rested between your boobs funny.
Maybe your husband didn’t like “blooming” skirts that gave you the hips you don’t have.
Maybe the idea was to look slimmer, so everything (or most things), had to be fitted to avoid the “tent” look.
All visual, fashion hangovers of the past.
Things people said.
Magazine articles you read.
Pinterest advice you pinned.
They stop you.
In the change room.
And in life.
In your tracks.
And suddenly,
You’re stuck in time.
Xx
K
I really would love for this to be a moment in your day, when we shift gears. Pause. Ponder.
And get a little more aware of all the feels. xx
I really would love for this to be a moment in your day, when we shift gears. Pause. Ponder.
And get a little more aware of all the feels. xx
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