Maybe it’s the autumnal air, the trees beginning to turn
their brilliant colors, the sky deepening it’s hue before a long winter’s sleep.
Something has affixed itself to me; something that has no name but boards
alongside restlessness and boredom. Let me interject and state that this has
nothing to do with Lucille. On the Motherhood front, I feel a sense of
gratifying fulfillment. Motherhood has simultaneously shattered and healed me.
By day’s end I am exhausted, but even in a collapsed state on the big brown
couch, every evening, my heart swells when I turn the monitor on and see my
daughter’s rumpled body in the corner of her crib, her doughy hand clutching
her lovey.
This thing,
this some other, has more to do with
the rest of my life. I’m 36. Am I too young to be facing a mid-life crisis? Is
that what this is? I have been teaching for nearly eleven years, a decade split
between two schools I love. For the majority of my career, I’ve been fortunate
enough to teach exactly what I want and how I want, and I have been relatively
successful at it. But lately the claws of a greener pasture seem to have
fastened themselves to the hours of my days. Daydreaming has turned into
thoughts of a full-fledged photography business, or transforming into a married
with a kid version of Carrie Bradshaw. My usual state of acceptance and general
happiness has been stained with a narrative of I want more.
Can we really have it all?
Pause.
My god, can we have it all and more?
My immediate response to this nebulous fog is to organize.
The need for a clean slate, for shirts hanging in the closet to be filed
side-by-side according to color and sleeve length, makes me happy. Begin a
cleanse and whole body makeover. And I
know why. It’s because I can control
these. I can make changes, I can reorganize my desk drawers, I can clean out
the pantry – I can be in complete control of the outcome. I’m not grasping at
gossamer trails of smoke in the air that don’t exist. Shirts on a hanger are
concrete items that can be manipulated. The daydreaming, the fettered state of
metacognition – it’s all so elusive.
The reality, though, of this more, is not really real. At least it appears to be temporary; it comes
in waves. While I was feeling as previously described for several days, I then
sank my teeth into planning one of my new courses, and guess what? I felt
revived. The color came back into my cheeks, and the wan sense of boredom
retreated. Clearly this just bolsters the case for not making a rash decision.
Good thing I didn’t resign and go spend umpteen-thousand dollars on lenses and
a new camera body. Good thing my family still has health insurance.
Good thing.
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