When I was a little girl I dreamed so many dreams that I would ride off into a sunset of love on a single white unicorn we’d dart throughout the clouds and rainbows would be plentiful, waterfalls would be glistening all around, id be a childhood actress, both my parents would love, support & inspire me to be anything I wanted to be. I would be the surfing princess from Copacabana beach with my sun kissed skin and bright white ringlet curled hair, riding the dolphins as they weaved in and out of the rolling waves; not a care in the world. No darkness in my aqua bright sky of possibilities, blissful flowing infinite love, a protected little lady, a child of the tribe. Only when I was a little girl those dreams never existed, my inner child never felt she was safe to play in the fantasies of child like life. I don't remember actually being a little girl, growing up, feeling pretty, safe, acknowledged, loved unconditionally, accomplished. I grew up remembering fear, abandonment, shame, entrapment; like I was everything I shouldn’t be. My rights as a daring baby mermaid, free to swim in crystal blue-green waters were taken away. In fact, I didn't find my scales until I had my first child decades later, or so I thought.
What I now know is that dreams are fleeting, some come true if you believe hard and long enough. The law of attraction is a real ass bitch. But I know my dreams are the sum total of everything that has ever happened to me, the people I have met along the way, the one’s that have stayed and the one’s that ran quickly into the dust. Every country i’ve ever lived in, every adventure that i’ve ever been on, every book i’ve ever read, every heart break that i’ve ever experienced, every friend i’ve ever loved, every mistake I have ever made, every family crisis I have been apart of, the good, the bad and the ‘brutiful'. I am where I am right now because of the intricate interactions of my soul and it’s connections. I know this and I believe this to be true but yet right now I feel so lost to my ‘purpose’ and it got me thinking.. Are there other stay at home mum’s out there that could be potentially feeling my feels to?
When you have been a stay at home ‘QUEEN of all trades’ for what feels like an eternity plus a day, your life starts to resemble something more along the lines of a torture chamber of sorts, sounds dramatic and it probably is but at times it can truly feel like you're living in solitary confinement, only your punishment is looking after very needy little human beings with very little reward or thanks or resonance. There is nothing tangible at the end of the day to show for it and often when your significant other asks you ‘what did you do today?’ you want to rip his head off and feed it to the wolves because, let’s face it, while he is on the outside building houses and chewing the fat with all the boys from work at lunch time, I am at home doing umpteenth loads of smelly washing and breaking up fist fights with my 4, 2 and 1 year old because one of them sat too close to each other or borrowed their fave toy without asking. Yes, yes it’s besides the obvious - I am doing important work looking after an actual human or three and they are being cared for by their mum but you know what I mean, I know you do!
Parenting is rewarding but at times there is no such reward. To me, parenting can feel like I am living in total isolation — only, paradoxically you are NEVER alone. The torture chamber continues to climax because your never alone in life and worst of all your never alone in sleep. Sleep is the most sacred gift we can give our bodies and when that is taken, well that’s capital punishment in my book. Me and no sleep is a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. There you go Corrine you will serve a consecutive life sentence of never having the freedom to think and feel for yourself again with no possible chance of parole. Once you become a mum, you're a mum for life, sleep or no sleep. So get on with it girl.
Us mum’s are literally dripping in babies. Every inch of blood, sweat and tears is a war story that you barley live another day to re tell and who wants to re tell the same old record on repeat. I am tired, the baby isnt sleeping, the kids killed the cat blah, blah, blah.
As a parent we so often see day and night in equal dualities because the rat bags don’t know day from night now do they? The sun has risen and the sky has fallen and you have one or more extra battle scars on you're aching body. Parenting is the hardest most combative, emotionally and physically exhausting job of all. Hands down. Give me a real job compared to full time parenting. Stay at home parents are warriors. We are love warriors for our mini love warriors. The jig is never up. 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, without sleep, without pay and with extra wrinkles that only botox can fix. The cucumbers are never enough for these mumma’s and dont even get e started about the stay at home parents that work on-top of being a parent, those peeps are gladiators. They are super hum, next level warriors.
It’s all cute when it’s your first baby, everything is surreal and your in a giant love bubble. You could spend forever staring into the sweet abyss of your life. Every single moment you are magically observing what your baby does. Your universe is bliss on a stick. Every noise a new development. Cuddling and kissing your baby endlessly whilst oohing with delight at the life you have created, what a euphoric feeling. Your baby is the special centre of your universe and you feel like you could literally burst at every seam with love oozing out of your body. Life is consumed by noticing every bubble he blows or little noise he makes, you spend your time shopping for that perfect outfit ready to show him off on playdates and to the world, you are literally the cat that got the cream.
Bring on baby number two and shortly followed number three and by that time you don’t even notice the months of their life let alone have time to watch them much at all, you send your eldest off to do that, whilst often forgetting their names.
When this isn’t your first rodeo, when the bull has not stopped bucking for days on end and your eyes look like they have black bags as big as your new clutch purse under them and when you feel energetically depleted and spiritually muted, because all you can think about is the gazillion jobs you have to do — cooking, cleaning, bathing, playing, changing and screaming on repeat, your repertoire of skills start to feel like you're driving a car with the hand break up. Plain and simple — they simply slow down. Your mum vocab is pretty much the same, day in and day out.
When your old life was corporate powerhouse on a mission and now all you think about is if your child has had her lunchtime nap, paradigms shift and life gets really confusing. One day rolls into the next and every day involves tears, tantrums, sibling rivalry and kids being kids, they should be entitled to their childhood in anyway that god sees fit but because we are beyond exhausted and basically bored with the daily grind, they often tend to wear it instead. In steps mummy guilt and then this stalls your life purpose yet again, the hand break is permanently on now.
It used to be a novelty when your dear little bub was saying your name on repeat but now their high pitched squeals sound more like a jacked up trance dancer on endless days of hardcore drugs and the last few years of your life your thought processes seem to have morphed into a selective repertoire of very limited naughty words and activities all for the advancement of your child’s development.
In comes your over thinking mind and you go off track yet again as you question your life’s purpose more times than you care to admit. When you’re true calling isn’t being betty crocker’s bitch because, let’s face it, you would rather eat all the batter out of the bowl before the goods actually go into the oven and when baking the goods for your family to take one bite of and throw into the bin or at the dog doesnt make you heart skip a beat with excitement and when your passion isn’t chopping a carrot into the perfect sized baton cut then your shit out of luck and you question your purpose once again. I mean I have no interest or fascination on how moist another mum’s meatloaf turned out in their brand spanking new thermomix so I guess I am off the next play date invite. Sorry, not sorry!
My purpose has always been a bone of contention because when you are mentally ill you believe you don’t have one and you believe that whatever you thought you had isnt good enough anyway.
It got me thinking, do other mum’s feel like this, do other mums dream of another life? Do other mums re evaluate what they were put here to do once the kids transition to daycare and then school. Do other mums feel this sense of pressure to achieve and achieve long after the mum gig is in full swing? Do other mums want to gas themselves in the torture chamber?
What is your life’s purpose (other than the obvious) of being a good mum, send me a love note, I would love to know? From my heart to yours.
Corrine xx
