On the things that have fallen into the cracks
Sometimes the written word can say what the spoken word simply cannot. Perhaps it’s because you can’t find the words or perhaps it is if those words when spoken would just simply be too much. I have always loved writing, loved writing letters and long sentimental birthday cards. I have loved writing text messages that went over several text messages and I have loved writing short bursts of 20 tiny text messages. Annoying? Perhaps..
I have dabbled in journaling but never been able to keep it up as a daily habit. I’ve always enjoyed writing stories and making up worlds. I have enjoyed writing poetry. I wrote and drew a graphic novel in my late teens, and now I know that through this little hobby I was processing so much of my world, what was happening and how I was experiencing it. To be fair I am not saying that I am good at it, just that I loved it.. and honestly I don’t care if it’s expressed correctly or if other people think it’s good.
Before I was a mother, I used to share the written word so much more than what I share it now. I find so much of my time is taken up with genuine things that needs to be done, the things that I think I need to do and a lot less of the things that I want to do. On reflection, I do less of the things that I choose to categorise as wants when I know that these are in fact, my needs. Funny that?
Why is that? Why is it so hard to give ourselves what we need and to hold onto the essential parts of yourself as you move into the mother role? I know it’s not because we love these things less, though no doubt we change and evolve. There’s a little to lots of grief in that. Realising that these pieces of ourselves have retreated into the cracks of life.
I can speak for nobody but me, and for me it is in part because time in a day is finite and I have formed the imprints in the course of my life where I have held a belief that self sacrifice is part of ‘good’ motherhood, and therefore my needs are nestled somewhere in the bottom of a list. To give without question, and to keep doing that. A belief that giving is an act of love. It is and I believe that. We all have beliefs and thoughts that we work with daily, in a bid to shake them off or to deepen them. But, I have learned, I also need to be in receipt of giving from others but most importantly from myself, maybe you do too?
Personally I am not big on talking, which probably surprises people (in fact a phone call is a semi terrifying concept even from loved ones, something to unpack at a later date). I can and will where it’s needed but we all have preferences hey? I enjoy talking and chatting in certain settings (does love a voice note, a dnm) and have developed an ability to seem as if I do in fact, enjoy public speaking. And yes of course, when there’s an interest, connection, vibe or an opportunity to deep dive into the spicy stuff, ain’t nothing gonna shut me up. Talking is a big part of my work, and I deeply love my work, but that does mean my personal capacity for it is again a little less. In my natural element, I love to listen and observe.. to speak when I have an urge to say something or share something I have noticed; I suppose I do not do surface level very well and not everyone likes that (HAH!). I have gone off on a tangent here.
To me, a thoughtful text message an unexpected note, an honest take on something in a quote or a poem, a paragraph in a book, a beautiful letter or a touching card are just beautiful to me, little beautiful opportunities to express and to be expressed to. Because you hear and you see the words, the act of a key tap or ink to paper is a deep a commitment that, it is. We can speak the written word aloud or allow it to exist as a silent echo that hangs in your mind. There’s something so tangible and real about it, I love that you can relive and reflect and that each time you do you might notice something different.
Connection, community, friendship, fun, hobbies, creative pursuits, cooking complex recipes, deep diving into a random topic, exercise, writing.. I’m sure we all have a list of the things that have slipped into cracks and lay waiting for us to stumble across these and bring them back into the light.
For me, here’s to more writing and making time for the things that are important to me. To reminding myself that there is no end to giving when we give to ourselves willingly and without calculation as a first thought, not a last. And maybe that creates a cycle of simple and never-ending love in abundance? Here’s to that.
So, what has slipped into the cracks for you?
Book Transforming Itself into Nude Woman by Salvador Dalí (1940)
