Barbara: After a wonderful whirlwind long weekend in Montreal last week, after seeing my daughter and reveling in family and friends, I am now back at home and officially navigating my new path of quietude. Because back at home there are no dinner parties or kids (or noise), back at home life “goes on”. And, yes, as we’d all anticipated, this new life of quietude is not without its challenges: namely, it also comes—at the moment—with an undercurrent of wistful, delicate sa-tigue (see how I made that up? “Sad” and “fatigue” together … because it feels remarkably like fatigue).
I swear I wasn’t even going to write about this as I don’t want you to worry about me or get all schlumpy yourselves (ever notice how moods are infectious?), but then … well, when you gotta write, you gotta write what you know, right? And right now, this is what I know.
I am doing my thing, by the way, and getting LOTS done (which is very satisfying and wonderful), but this satigue just follows me everywhere. Kinda like a puppy who’s forced to be with you on a long road trip and does so only because he loves you and the alternative of being left behind is much much worse but who is in great emotional distress the whole time because he HATES the car but he’d prefer you didn’t know this as his favourite purpose in life is to follow you around happily and adore you and so he suffers the dreaded 6-hour car ride in whimpering “silence”. (… Yes, this would be Chaplin on last week’s road trip to and from Montreal. Make sure you listen for his low down, low-grade whine...)
And do you ever find when you’re nursing the low down, low-grade blues that you kinda want to be left alone with them? That you don’t really want to chat and visit and be cheered? I know, for me, it’s all about letting it run its gentle course. And, in my experience, it is a gentle course. This is not the same feeling as true depression, or frustration, or angst, or grief. It is something else entirely. It feels almost like that dull ache you get when you’re a young teen and your bones are growing you into your next shape and size. Everything kinda throbs and hurts and your longer arms and legs make you all clumsy and awkward. But. BUT. You have this niggling, insistent, committed certainty that this new size and shape is going to be just swell in time and that it will all be worth it in the end.
So the truth is out: definitely feeling the blues right now. But the hope is there: definitely convinced it won’t last that long or be for naught.
Deb: Oh Barb. I have no words of wisdom. I hope you take solace in the fact that you know I have been where you are. I hope you see that we made the best of it and that we were rewarded with the return of our boy plus a girl. I also hope you see how very very fast that time went. We are reversed, aren’t we? We are reversed. I am feeling your satigue and I am phoning you...right now. Sending love. xo