There is a long drawn out period of time when you yearn for just a moment to call your own, when silence is all you need and like a very diligent, focused person you keep your eye on the day when you will finally be free to think and be the creative person you are destined to be. Then comes that day. The youngest is finally off to school and you have many moments of solitude, where you actually get reacquainted with your own thoughts. A few days of celebration turn into a couple of weeks of ‘finding inspiration’ and suddenly 3 months have flown by. Three months of half a day to yourself, three months of an expectant spouse waiting finally for that elusive creative spirit to reclaim you, three months of questions, ideas, and finally self-doubt. What now?
Had you been fooling yourself with ideas of imagined grandeur and acclaim? Is it just not possible to shed the motherhood skin and don the artist garb? How, in the midst of 2 pregnancies, moving countries, rearing 2 boys and being an undomestic goddess did you suddenly lose your ability to put down an idea? What then were all those lofty ideas floating around in your head while you willed your baby to sleep? Or those sparks of brilliance that threatened to overtake you while you made yet another dinner for the family?
We so often forget that just like our bodies, our minds also need constant nourishment, and while motherhood is rewarding on so many levels, it’s the devil as far as creativity is concerned. All the years which we spend looking after our babies and bringing them up, questioning our own rearing skills, feeling inept at times, completely heroic at others; we gave up a part of ourself. In the battle between functionality and fantasy, functionality wins. You became an uber cool mom, playing the part just right during school runs and playdates and didn’t stop to address the nagging feeling that something was missing.
In one early morning breakfast discourse, with a few close friends who can lay claim to knowing me, we circled around the idea of self-imposed hurdles. Could those obstacles that I felt were blocking my path, possibly be constructed by a fear of failure and a fear of being judged, they asked? Made worse by the looming pressure of a performance worthy of a 7 year hiatus? My instant reaction was irritation at being analysed but of course the real annoyance was at how true they probably were. Nothing was ever perfect enough, no time was ever just right, and the number of stars that had to be aligned for me to finally embark on a journey of creativity were too many to count. I took their criticism home to dwell on. After much deliberation I was forced to admit that instead of jumping headfirst into an idea I almost always grappled with its pros and cons and ultimately allowed the idea to fade away unable to face up to the gruelling scrutiny.
As I go into the fifth month of my liberated self, I am still struggling to find my voice. The years of not working have made me question my worth and the enormity of the task ahead is almost paralysing. To break out of this, I will have to stop worrying about the grand finale and instead focus on the here and now; put pen to paper and write down that ongoing dialogue in my head, take the moment and capture it somehow in a vignette, draw mindlessly. I will have to remind myself that in the unpredictability and chaos of this life are the moments that really define us.
post 2am 