self care – Soundly Sarah

Journaling, Mental Health, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Life and it’s meaning.

07/11/2022 No Comments

What Are You Willing to Struggle for? Fulfillment involves effort, trial-and-error, failure and learning.

On a surface level, and because I cannot think of a better answer, my children. I will struggle through and for my children. Learning that selfless type of sacrificing was the gift of motherhood, however. I was a person before motherhood, and I continue to be one beyond it.

Attempting to answer this right now in a way that is beyond my children, however, is… beyond me. I am deeply in the throes of toddlerhood these days. Much of the time I am mentally worn, exhausted, tired, and overwhelmed. Struggling (beyond the struggle right now that is making it through the weekend sane and in-tact) is a worrying thing for me to consider.

So, to answer the question, I am willing to hold on and struggle to make it to my kids’ bedtime. I am willing to struggle until I get that chance to breath, to sit down, and be me – not mom, not nurse, not chef, not maid – or the million other identities of motherhood. After my kid’s bedtime is the one period during my day in which I can be selfish, listen to my own needs, and do *exactly* it is that I want to do. For that, and for who I can be who I need to be for my children, I will struggle through.

Do I somewhat cringe at the selfish type of person this makes me feel like? Yes. Will that change my answer? Not likely, if I am being honest. Right now, the capacity I have for struggling is limited to that which fosters my own survival. That is not something I can’t be sorry for. In time, I hope, want, and need this answer to evolve. To think beyond me and to the world at large.

In time.

What Did Your 8-Year-Old Self Love Doing? Remember the joy of doing things for the fun of it? No rewards, no impressing anyone, just for yourself.

I collected rocks around this time. I loved rocks. I had a rock tumbler, and dutifully I collected prized stones that I hoped would tumble into treasures. I used all of my (paltry) allowance on buying those shiny, colourful rocks at those wooden cart kiosks you’d randomly find in stores in the 90s. I’d hold my rocks, sort them, and keep them in special boxes. Rocks were my *thing* and to this day they are a small pleasure of mine. I sadly let my greater love of rocks die at this age, however, when a friend of my father’s tried to quiz me about what were the types of rocks he had found, stating that I should know it, and I shamefully couldn’t answer. I didn’t feel worthy of loving rocks anymore at that point.

Playing secretary was my second love. My mom, who was my dad’s secretary for his door company, had this giant wooden desk at home full of ledgers and papers and pens and highlighters and those old school printing calculators. I would sit there and pretend the afternoon away. Organizing the bits, pretending to take phone calls, writing down pertinent information, ensuring everything was organized. I loved that sense of order.

Lastly, there was an off and on stint around this age with interior decorating. I got obsessed with organizing my room in certain ways and ensuring everything had a proper place. I decided I wanted to do interior decorating for a hot minute as a result. I didn’t realize at this time that it wasn’t the decoration I was there for (I’ve always been terrible at having a cohesive aesthetic). I was there for creating order, sense, and peace in my environments.

What Makes You Forget to Eat? When are you are so immersed in an activity that time passes without you realizing? Psychologist call this flow.

Housing systems in video games (must have a social element/*fuck* The Sims). I find it in the placing of items, the tweaking for perfect alignment, the striving towards some type of cohesion (even if my sense of aesthetic may suck) – it is gloriously soul nourishing and fun.

Spreadsheets. Sorting data. Learning from this data. Fixing and organizing meta-tags, adding in missing information to systems, and creating a clearly aligned cohesive system. For my brain and it’s OCD’ish needs, but also, for a world of more beautifully aligned spreadsheets and data. :>

Writing. While it’ll never be book quality, making meaning onto pages like these. The purposeful stringing together of (carefully chosen) words to create the metaphor/soliloquy/meaning I was going for, and my personal realizations and becomings in its wake.

Lastly, reading. Fictional fantasy/sci-fi nerdery. Following the lives of strong female leads into other worlds and existences that I could only dream of.

How Are You Going to Save the World? You may not end world hunger, but you can make a difference. Instead of focusing too much on finding yourself, lose yourself in something larger.

This question. I have sat with it, wrestled with it, fought myself against it, left it, returned to it, and struggled with it. I’ve never been able to answer it and for too long I’ve let that *be* my answer. But… the following quote has left me in pause.

“It’s fine to struggle against the constraints of human nature, hoping to mitigate the worst of what’s to come, but it’s just as important to fight smaller, more local battles that you have some realistic hope of winning. Keep doing the right thing for the planet, yes, but also keep trying to save what you love specifically—a community, an institution, a wild place, a species that’s in trouble—and take heart in your small successes. Any good thing you do now is arguably a hedge against the hotter future, but the really meaningful thing is that it’s good today. As long as you have something to love, you have something to hope for.”

Jonathan Franzen

I’ve got something to love.

So, think globally, yet act locally. And if I follow my heart, it leads to helping fight the fight of protecting BC’s endangered old-growth forests.

Learning how I can *utilize* my skillsets (particularly those in my second and third answers) in this regard to best help, however? That learning journey awaits me.

If You Knew You Were Going to Die One Year from Today, What Would You Do and How Would You Want to be Remembered? How do you really want to spend your time? What do you want your legacy to be?

One year, hey?

I’d want to spend it loving. Loving my children, loving those in my life that matter to me, and loving myself (and possibly as loving trees, too, ‘cause I am me and I am a *little* extra).

I’ve never thought or believed I needed a legacy. It feels presumptuous. Beyond those in my life that are important to me, I do not need to be remembered. I am no trail blazer. There are far greater acts and efforts that came before me and will follow me. Let them have the stage.

But, in those minds of those I care for, I hope to be remembered as a light. As a hope. As a supporter, defender, and lover. As someone who was good at her job, loved what she did, always wanted to learn, and tried to help others. If they also happen to remember me as a (loving) troll, doomsponge, and being far too eager at times than I ought to be, that’s okay, too. :>

Perhaps these are not the highest of ideals to achieve for in what I leave behind for the world… but, they are me. <3

[Featured], Journaling, Mental Health

Who?

06/21/2022 No Comments

I’ve been attempting to re-write my (now deleted, burned, and ashes blown to the wind) about me section for this website as of late. In the wake of all that’s happened this past six months, it rang of a girl I no longer am.

Separation (and divorce, once we get around to it), co-parenting while living together, being single again, my significantly changed role at work, and an inevitable move that will help further cement these necessary and changed dynamics.

These are times of upheaval. Growth, becoming, relief – and upheaval.

I find myself standing among these pieces and grasping at where I belong. What shoe now fits. What identity rings true. What and who I now am.

For years too many, I identified myself by who I was to someone else. Mother, wife, sister, and daughter.

In this time of now — a clawing back of independence and identity, listening to my own needs, and speaking of truths — who is Sarah?

And so, I’ll write it out.

For what should become as a surprise to no one, I know not how to begin at anywhere else other than my faults.

Socially anxious and awkward. Shy. Unsure, self-doubting, and eternally self-deprecating. Often overwhelmed, terrible at asking for help, and demands of herself a level of work/”doing all the things” ethic that is often to her own detriment. Doesn’t know when to stop in those regards, and also doesn’t exercise enough or get outdoors as much as she should. Conflict avoidant (to the point of numbing out), repressor of feelings, and perpetually worried about “rocking the boat”. Has difficulties asserting herself and would love more than anything to just melt into the background – much like her slippery and evading sense of self-identity. Painfully perfectionist and introverted beyond measure.

Yet, at the same time, there is goodness.

Caring, kind, and thoughtful. Supportive, reliable, and helpful. Stable, peaceful, and patient. Careful, yet hopeful. Organized, meticulous, and detailed. Conscientious, observant, and a defender of the vulnerable. Respectful, progressive, and loving. Joyful and humble (perhaps to a fault).

(Admittedly, not quite as good as talking about her good bits as she is her “bad”.)

And then there is that which is simply that.

The comforts she finds in the definable. Cozy in the exacts. Beauty and stability in data. Her eye for specifics. A love of words, reading, and stories. An appreciation for wit and intellect. A (100% untrained) connoisseur of tacos, thrift shopping, and Reese’s peanut butter cups. Liberal and atheist, and at one with nature. Nerdy. Give her video games with housing systems and give her board games with friends – she will be content. A complete, utter, and well-meaning doomsponge… but, also, a troll of the most loving proportions.

And at the end of it all, a survivor of childhood trauma and postpartum mental health reckonings – keenly aware of how they have made her who she is to this day.

New and old truths, new and old shoes. Here lies my journey fourth.

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

My brain is broken.

01/24/2021 No Comments

Any bookish types out there? If so, help!⁣

Off and on, and throughout the course of much of my life, I have gone through periods of heavy reading and then NOTHING.⁣

During the year and half prior to giving birth to my daughter I was averaging about two books a week. How many have I fished since she was born? Not a ONE.⁣

It’s not because of lack of sleep (she lets me sleep quite well — for now, at least). It’s not because I don’t have time (if I committed the same amount of effort to it as I do looking at irrelevant meaninglessness on my phone, I’d be golden).⁣

And it’s not because I don’t have anything I want to read, either. There are books by the hundreds on my “to-read” list. Gorgeous, fantasy books with intricate storytelling, fascinating world building, and strong, female protagonists.⁣

But, my brain keeps insisting on being this fried, dumb thing that refuses to cooperate. I’ll load GOOD books on my Kobo, attempt to dive in and am only able to read about a page before my attention wanders. Snap back, I try again. Over and over. Eventually, out of annoyance and frustration, I give up. My ability to focus is G.O.N.E. This is all similar to how it’s been in the past when I’ve gone through others of these “no-read” periods.⁣

I gave birth five months ago and I should give myself more time maybe, I hear you. But, I’d really like it to change sooner rather than later. ⁣Reading became this huge part of me, more so than ever before, and now it kind of feels as if I’ve lost a limb. It’s also the one, guaranteed thing I can get lost in during COVID when I need to pretend everything is normal… :(⁣

So, how do I fix this? Do I need a different approach? Should I work to better understand (somehow?) why I go through these no-reading phases? Should I consider a different mindset? Different books? A different life? lol.⁣

Help!

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

I wish that for you always.

05/10/2020 No Comments

Sending a special shout out today to the moms out there who feel DONE.

Done ‘cause of #stayhome, done ‘cause they just can’t anymore, done ‘cause they can’t live up to societal expectations of motherhood, or done ‘cause all they want right now is a good hour of not being mom and a stiff drink.

I hear you.

I feel you.

I am you.

You are worthy.

You are human.

Your honesty keeps it real, and to others out there struggling, it is achingly necessary.

There is beauty in that rawness, and it is you.

May today give you a chance to breathe.

I wish that for you always.

Happy you day. 💚⁣ ⁣

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Is this how mom’s workout?

09/07/2019 No Comments

Introducing my, “If you want to watch TV, you’ve gotta walk while you do it” corner. This has also been paired with making better choices with what I eat. I’m trying to move more and eat smarter. I’m 8 weeks in.⠀
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I’m not doing this to purposely diet or loose a ton of weight (though it wouldn’t hurt), but to find a balance. To feel better internally. To live longer for my kid. To not want to die when I have to walk up the steps at work. (Note: it’s helping!). ⠀
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Pairing an iPad to the treadmill has helped make it a pretty flawless experience for me, and that’s why I’m posting this. A lot of the time I forget that I’m exercising, even while trying to keep a brisk pace. As a result I exercise more, I watch less TV (‘cause let’s be real), and I read more outside of it. ⠀
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But, I now need from you guys suggestions of *REALLY AMAZINGLY GOOD* shows to treadmill-binge on Netflix as I’m about to run out of series I can count on. So, lay ‘em on me! Though nothing too scary (I’m a wuss) or funny, cause I about killed myself laughing by almost falling off the treadmill when watching the last season of Orange is the New Black. Whoops.

Mental Health, Milestones & Genetics, Motherhood, Respectful Parenting, The magic (in the mess). ♡

This is what I know.

07/22/2018 No Comments

For the past five or so days I’ve been on a massive cleaning, purging, MAKE IT LOOK GOOD frenzy. It was brought on by some other changes going on in my life, changes that are going to give me more time to invest love into our home, and this endeavour of organizational overhaul was seemingly the best place to start.

(Can I just say that organizing does my brain better than ANY therapy, religion or mindfulness could ever dare hope to? It’s good. So freakin’ good. Like thrillingly good. ANYWAYS.)

As I’ve been tossing, donating, giving away, straightening, fixing, redecorating, focusing on what matters, etc., I’ve had time to think. Time to dwell. Time to ponder and ruminate.

And I’ve come to this conclusion, a conclusion in answer to my last post… if I wish to write (which I do), and have it be from a lived experience, then isn’t the answer simply to write what I *do* know?

And what is it that I know, anyways?

So, to begin (and perhaps one day end…):

I know what it is to be a mom and feel like I have absolutely no freakin’ idea what I’m doing, but, amazingly, things seemingly work out okay and my kid loves my anyways (*pats self on back*) – even if I genuinely have NO idea how.

I know what it is to be on the receiving side of the toxic realm of mommy shaming in this world we live in, and how inexcusable, hurtful and NOT necessary it is, and that I so very much want to spread LOVE to make all the moms I know feel worthy and good enough – ‘cause I don’t always feel that way myself.

I know what it is to be a mom of a child with special needs/special rights, who asks of the world differently than what it’s able to typically give, and the tears and the struggles and the JOYS that come with such an identity of nurturing.

I know what it is to mentally struggle as a mom, and to struggle deeply, bearing fourth my vulnerabilities to the therapists and close friends in my world, always hoping my story gets better… or helps another know that the light isn’t always so dark.

I know what it is as a mom and wife to be blindsided by the addition of a baby and now toddler, and how it forever changes one’s marriage, and how HARD that can often be to help kindle, heal and give it the attention that it needs.

I know what it is to be a mom without a village, or without a real and *present* network of support (except Tina, god bless that woman), and how “without” that can make one feel, and sometimes less than – and the startling realization of being able to physically count on so few.

I know what it is to become a mom at an older age than some, and the shock of a system it can still be at times to put on mommy shoes when for so, so long that was never, ever the case – and the at times *incredibly* trying adjustment it can be to shift into a mothering state of mind.

I know what it is to be a somewhat “new to being a mom” in this very digital world of Facebook mom groups, mom blogs, “overly eager advice sharing people with a keyboard”, and the trials, triumphs and tribulations that have so far come with parenting in a (perhaps too) technological rich realm of information/misinformation.

I know what it is as a mom to want to embrace said technology, but only giving teeny tiny little bits of it at a time to my child, deeply afraid of it being harmful to his growing brain or becoming unstoppable – as technology in my life past was want to do.

I know what it is to be a mom that is guided deeply by the tenements of trust and respect for my child, even when he’s doing what a two year old often does, and how I refuse to shush or distract him from what he’s feeling/going through for the sake of an easier road – even if an easier road sometimes would be much, much easy to bare.

I know what it is to be a mom who is bigger than most, who looks different than others, and who doesn’t always love her body – even if my kid ADORES it, tummy and all (which boggles my dang mind).

And as all moms do, I know what it is to sacrifice. To give up sleep, food, my own needs and my own wants, all for a child who is rested, full, healthy and happy. How he gets there, I’m not so sure, but I’m seemingly doing *something* right.

This is what I know.

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

A story of a teeny tiny bruise.

06/30/2018 No Comments

Want to know how exciting my life is as a mom? Read on.

I’m in a dressing room at Change (a bra store here in Canada).

I’ve just tried on a new and different bra after bringing back two I bought last week that 1) one had already broken and 2) kept stabbing me in my side-boob (looks like I wasn’t sized correctly the first time around). So, I’m rocking nothing but a bra and a pair of SWEET tights, and the fitting attendant asks me to do some exercises for “four minutes” (who comes up with these times?) to make sure this bra doesn’t also try to murder me. Sure thing, I say.

She leaves, and I start with some stretches. Stretches soon turn into a full out dance party, and THEN out comes the Sprinkler, ‘cause there aint no dance party until that move hits the floor. However, I underestimate the amount of space in the dress room and proceed to wack my ‘sprinkler’ hand HARD against the mirror. It hurts like shit, I’m screaming inside as there are people on either side of me in their own dressing rooms wondering what the fresh hell it is that I’m doing, and I proceed to spend the next three minutes quietly sitting down and assuring myself that this bra will do just fine.

Thankfully, it’s had no issues yet.

AND THAT IS MY STORY OF A TEENY TINY BRUISE.

Motherhood, Respectful Parenting, The magic (in the mess). ♡

THIS.

03/28/2018 No Comments

Trust him.

Respect him. ⁣
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Observe him. ⁣
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Listen to him. ⁣
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Ceremoniously slow. ⁣
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Wait. ⁣
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Breathe. ⁣
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Soften. ⁣
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He’s not giving you a hard time, he’s having a hard time. ⁣
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We are on the same team. ⁣
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Don’t react, respond. ⁣
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He’s only little once. ⁣
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Remember how old he is. ⁣
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Do with, as opposed to do to. ⁣
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You are here to help, not make it worse. ⁣
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You do have time for this. ⁣
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This is what matters. ⁣
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Set limits early. ⁣
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When you know better, you can do better. ⁣
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This is an opportunity to connect. ⁣
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What need is he communicating?⁣
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Where is he coming from?⁣
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Talk aloud what’s happened.⁣
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This is not an emergency. ⁣
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I am where I need to be. ⁣
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This is age appropriate. ⁣
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Treat him how you’d like to be treated. ⁣
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Share your calm, don’t join the chaos. ⁣
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Acknowledge the inner delight. ⁣
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See the effort, voice the effort. ⁣
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Be consistent. ⁣
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It’s not personal. ⁣
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I am here. ⁣
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I hear you. ⁣
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Your words today will become his inner voice tomorrow. ⁣
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He’s doing his best. ⁣
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Hours are long, but the years are short. ⁣
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It’s harder for him than it is for me. ⁣
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Let feelings be, they don’t belong to me. ⁣
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Be who you want him to be.

Mental Health, Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Returning to where I need to be.

11/06/2017 No Comments

Okay. I am about to feel incredibly silly for writing this all out, as I have not completely become confident in sharing and living it yet, BUT… this is an act of holding myself accountable. Continue on I can and will.

In my ongoing journeys of post-partum anxiety, post-partum depression and post-partum “what the fresh hell has happened to my life” I have been seeing a counselor and attempting to heal. Born anew I do not expect to be, but eventually finding again the harmony, security and joy to what I once lived is a hope of mine.

So, how I am being instructed to go about doing that is through the act of mindfulness.

There are many interpretations of mindfulness out there, but I personally like this one best: an embracing of awareness in the presence, and cultivating that awareness with kindness and curiosity.

I’m not always the greatest at practicing mindfulness (even though I talk about its teachings often in my career), but I am thankful for what changes it has made thus far in my struggles and the potentials it has in helping me. It helps my brain stop when nothing else can, it grounds me and it allows me to embrace the here and now.

And there is one particular mindfulness strategy I have found to be invaluable to me thus far, and it is known as 5 4 3 2 1.

After taking some purposeful, deep breaths, here is what it asks of those who practice it to do:

Acknowledge FIVE things you see around you.
Acknowledge FOUR things you can touch around you.
Acknowledge THREE things you hear.
Acknowledge TWO things you can smell.
Acknowledge ONE thing you can taste.

(The above can be rearranged if a particular sense is much more abundant than the rest).

I have come to embrace this strategy as it takes me out of my head. It stops the thoughts. It returns me to the physical and lets me simply be. In a world of anxiety and depression that is nothing but a warzone of emotions and panic, it is a lifesaver.

The super nerdy, I’m embarrassed to admit part: recently, in a hope that it better helps and reminds me to practice 5 4 3 2 1, I put together a mindfulness kit for myself to let me have one of every sense readily available to me. The items I choose were ones that particularly spoke to me and bring within me a great sense of peace. My kit now goes everywhere I go, and it looks a little like this:

See: pictures of heavily forested landscapes
Touch: aventurine worry stone
Hear: “zen” chime
Smell: essential oils (lavender and orange in particular)
Taste: yes, that is a mint tin, but there are totally green jolly ranchers inside of it. :>

And it all else fails, a deck of mindfulness cards with other exercises to try if needed.

So, long story short, if you see or hear of me peddling around a chime, staring at trees and smelling heavily of lavender/hippie fabulousness, I haven’t quite lost it. Yet! Rather, I am taking a moment to return to where I need to be. Please be patient with me, as I might not always get there, but I’m trying.

Mental Health, Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Observations of first time motherhood, (part 12^234234).

05/13/2016 No Comments

The closer the bond you form with your baby, the more watching ANYTHING showing a child lost, hurt or killed makes you loose your shit. NOPE, NETFLIX, NOT GOING THERE ANYMORE.
6AM is now sleeping in, and it is a marvelously blissful thankyoubabyjesus BEAUTIFUL thing when it happens.
Days when you are able to accomplish eating all three meals, making the bed, brushing your teeth and putting clothes on ALL parts of your body are days that you’re pretty sure you are a rock-star. Bonus: If you get a shower in, you’re probably ready to go on tour to cement your status as rock elite.
You look at moms/dads juggling with more than one baby/child and you are pretty sure they are god damn wizards. HOW?! WHEN?! AND FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, WHY?!
Every time you run errands, you now question if it’s worth it to drive to more than one place. Do you really want to pack your child in the car TWICE for what you need? Do you really need that other thing? Is it worth the potential crank? Or the potential super freakin’ short nap they’ll take on the way to the other place while later on rejecting the much better nap they could have had? THESE ARE THE ETERNAL QUESTIONS. Being “out” is now a game of how many things you can magically get accomplished in one, close to home, walkable shopping center that doesn’t really have everything you need but you’re DETERMINED to make it work anyhow and all within the time frame of your child’s happy wake period, if you’re lucky. (You’re usually not.) (I *WILL* get better at this.)
Worrying that you’ve actually created a drug like dependence on Enya in your child is now a thing.
You are 100% positive you have the cutest baby in ALL of the land to EVER exist. Sure, those other babies are pretty adorable, but YOUR’S is the cutest there ever was (said every parent in man-kind).
The things you and your SO celebrate will be forever changed. “Guess who went poo today!” “Whoa, did you hear that burp? That was a burp!” “He slept an ten extra minutes for that nap!” And somehow, no matter how mundane to the average outsider, these moments to celebrate feel just as epic to you as anything ever worth celebrating before.
Pretending to look/talk/play with your child in their stroller is an amazing way to avoid having to interact with people in public that you don’t want to. Weird guy gonna walk by you on the street? HI BABY, I LOVE YOU BABY, PAY ATTENTION TO ME BABY.
After a brutally long day of mothering, you will sometimes find yourself, after having FINALLY gotten your child to freakin’ sleep and while getting some YOU time, now staring lovingly at pictures of them on your phone. You are absolutely addicted to this thing your body made and no matter how tired or over it you get (you are human), you can never seem to get enough. A crazy, profound love has been born into your world that is infinite in its ability to fill your soul to the brim while leaving you wanting, needing and forever reaching out for more.

Obviously, these are all from the context of my own life, and, like all things, they do no blanket apply to every first time mom or mom in general… but, with hope, some of you were able to relate!

Mental Health, Motherhood

Thirty minutes.

04/27/2016 No Comments

Like many other babies his age, O is in the midst of a period where he only sleeps 30 minutes for every nap he takes. He started this off and on a good month or so ago, and now has solely taken naps like this for the past two and a half weeks. Additionally, in between his every thirty minute nap, he has the tolerance for being up around two hours before cranky town hits. Naturally, our daily schedule has adjusted to accommodate this, though not by choice. If I didn’t have to constantly feel as if I was living life by the clock and always chasing the next nap, I wouldn’t. The needs of my child say otherwise, however, no matter how much of a schedule whore it may make me seem.

For me and I imagine millions of other moms, nap time is a time of reprieve. A time when, after giving every piece of you to your LO, you can give something back to yourself.

But in those thirty minutes do you…

Read (a choice I have made more so lately)?

Peruse other hobbies (a choice I have not made enough lately)?

Clean (a choice I made far too frequently last week as it had been neglected and we were expecting company)?

Play SimCity on my phone (a choice I wish I would make less of)?

Sleep (a choice that is a joke within a thirty minute time frame)?

Eat (a choice that should always take precedence, but often doesn’t)?

Write a post on Soundly Sarah (a choice I have neglected lately, oops!)?

Just be thankful you have that time?

Do you choose one of those?

Some of those?

All of those as you frantically try to jumble it into 1800 seconds and end up not satisfied at all as a result?

Evidenced by the fact that I’ve only been able to just now write this while on bed rest from a hurt foot, I don’t know how to answer those questions. Is this how it’ll always be?

In terms of better prioritizing, scheduling and letting go of the reins at times for things to happen as they will, I could have the answers I seek. But I did not expect this aspect of motherhood. I did not expect for my needs to be sequestered into 30 minutes time chunks. I (obliviously) imagined dreamy, two hour naps of bliss and relaxation. Eventually, those may come, but nap time in general will happen less if they do.

This obliviousness, or delusion, rather, it went so far as to tell multiple people before giving birth that I was worried I would get bored or stir crazy while on mat leave. I didn’t realize it would be nothing like that. I didn’t realize the second I’d have some time, it would be gone. Nap after nap, I find myself just getting started on ‘me’ when it’s nearly ended. So often, I hear O on the baby monitor at a point when things have just gotten ‘good’. Is that horrible of me to admit? Or merely human?

I write this for it leaves me in a spot of motherhood that I still find myself flailing, unsure and a bit ruffled. No matter the changes I could make, I am stuck at these questions. How do I redefine and pair down what I truly need while I am immersed in all that is motherhood? How do I make space for my desires and interests in a way that now accommodates times as a resource precious as gold? How do I refuse to loose myself among the demands that this new life entails? And, in this so often mother eats mother world, makes you feel like an selfish jerk for wanting it that way?

How?

Mental Health, Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Real and at times blisteringly honest.

04/05/2016 No Comments

I’ve got too much stuff in my head and a wanting to put it somewhere. The notes app on my phone is overflowing with half written posts, thoughts, questions, ideas, lists combining all four of those things and life. A whole lot of messy, confusing, wonderful life. This is not something new since becoming a mother, but it has definitely become amplified as a result.

Writing has always been a part of me, but in strange ways. Ways which start as thoughts that desire (quite obnoxiously) at 3AM to flesh out and make sense of the raw truthiness of everything and how to find it’s humour, compassion and warmth. While I’d MUCH rather sleep, in it I find comfort. Speckle it’s written component with shitty grammar (my specialty!) and badly lighted Instagram shots, and you’ve got me.

So, with all this new and unexpected time I’ve suddenly found in my life (yay for a sleeping baby!) I made a thing. A blog? A diary? A public thoughts dump? One of those or all of those, it is to be my place to share what I’ve already been writing/will write on this absolutely exhausting yet achingly beautiful journey of first time motherhood that I find myself on, and a place where in posting said things I might further connect, push myself, be challenged and grow.

Like it and follow it if you want. If you enjoy it, feel free to share it. I can’t promise how much I’ll post to it (though I will be doing a bit of “backdate” posting for stuff I’ve already written), and I cant promise it won’t be something I’ll forget about from time to time when life gets in the way (another of my specialties!). But, I can promise that it will be real and at times blisteringly honest, however, as I simply don’t have the time or patience for anything less.

p.s. And yes. I totally named it Soundly Sarah. 💚⁣ ⁣