I have been laying in bed now for the past hour trying, willing, pleading with my head to turn off so I could go to sleep. Obviously, I have failed. I decided, I would try the old method, one I had spent most of the afternoon 'researching' and reacquainting myself with: journaling.
From the age of 8 through 23 I kept a fairly consistent nightly journal. Through the years I gave different journals names. I called them my only friend and confidant. I finally got the the habitual point that would not allow me to go to sleep without first laying the day to rest in textual format. I say I was 'researching' this afternoon as I was browsing selectively through my journals for references to my sense of identity and family. I will be drafting an 18 page paper tomorrow that deals with that subject, in which I get to be one of my own research subjects - that is, the past me.
The research brain in me was fascinated with seeing how my writing and voice developed overtime. There were elements of my writing style which have never changed - that flow of consciousness that is playful and teasing. Yet there were structural elements that I tinkered with - I can read now how I was intentionally moulding a literate voice full of phrases and terminology that expanded and contracted with my idea of what a good writer was. Being literary person really manipulated even my very personal writing.
Beyond the interest in textuality, which I did get past, I began to sink into the ebb and flow over the years of self-doubt, depression, and confidence that I still struggle with now. I was impressed by the constant struggle with conscious self and mortality. My thoughts and feelings so often were in contest. My desires were strong, perhaps the flesh was weak. I still feel that struggle. Even looking back at myself from that third-person reader stance, I feel empathy for my own self. Still, my desires overshoot my behaviors. I want so much to
become that
living seems to get in the way. The massive hurdles of priority and balance, coupled so closely together, often trip me up. As evident in this past week.
I have been feeling the mounting pressure of the end of semester. Yet, at the same time, a lot of momentum is building in our family as well. Pressured by our sellers, we moved our home signing up to Wednesday. I had not anticipated this large chunk of time devoted to a new house. On Tuesday the kids got out of school at half day, which meant that I had the remainder of a very important week needing to be devoted to motherhood rather than student work. I coiled the student-self spring tight inside my chest telling myself I could let it release at certain times when the family did not need me to do some powerful school work. The coil is still cocked and I am near crazy!
Since the kids got out of school Tuesday half-day, and it was Grandparents day at school, I stayed at the school to help with the event and visit in the kids' classrooms to avoid 2 hours of driving for 2 hours at home. We had barely recouped from a very stimulating half-day at school when it was the usual racecar rally to various lessons: Faith and Viv start lessons at 4pm, then Danny and I pick up Viv at 5:30, then swing around to pick up Faith by 5:45, come home for quick nacho dinner then all are back in the car to take Danny back to 6:30 tap lessons. It is a regular Tuesday after school relay in order to clear up other afternoons of the week. Of course, no school work was fit into that schedule.
Wednesday the house signing went lonnnng. I then had to take the kids to Grabill for piano lessons since their teachers' car was broken. We got home around 2pm and had a lot of housework to accomplish. I want to believe I was productive with all my time that afternoon, but the state of my stress from the coiled spring inside and unexpected timeline shift and sent me into an anxious shock. I felt good getting a couple layers on the rainbow Jello and watching a movie with the kids.
Thursday Josh was home with us. He was home with us all weekend. His presence at home is wonderful. It was a stay-cation, time devoted to family. We all chipped in to make a Thanksgiving meal that was delicious, although void of enthusiasm. I didn't care to invite people over for the meal knowing my emotional instability of late and I missed the family traditions of old. We at and then digested to "A Muppet Christmas Carol." Unfortunately, at some point during dinner preparations, we clogged the kitchen sink which made Thanksgiving dishes linger....and linger....and linger...
Friday we got to go to our new home, which is purchased but not yet ready to be lived in, to visualize what life will be like when we move in 21 days from now. It was Josh's first time in the home. The sellers took the time to show us the quirks of the home and then left us to measuring and musing. It took the majority of the afternoon. We made a quick stop at Lowe's for some boxes to pack away the wall hangings that Josh and I had been pulling off the walls at our current home. The weekend was devoted to patching walls and painting them to an untouched glory. After a discussion with the sellers, Josh and I made a very late night decision to do some late night Black Friday shopping to help Santa bring a TV to our family for the first time.
Saturday we waited anxiously for a plumber to finally free the kitchen pipes, which did not happen until late afternoon. During the morning's frustration we managed to get the Christmas decorations in place to welcome the holiday cheer into this home for one final (to be cut short) season. Our enthusiasm for preparing for he new home occupied our spare thoughts, considering these three precious days were the seldom few Josh and I had to discuss ideas and purchases in real time. We made a fast trip to a furniture store to verify that online prices were better and made it home to more online shopping. Rugs, rugs, rugs! It becomes a problem when there really are too many choices. I became frustrated by Sunday afternoon that we did not close the deal and move on. I mentally do not have any more time to devote to the new home or Christmas shopping from now until Dec 17th.
Oh boy. That brings us full circle. I am in a position recorded through my own history as all too familiar. I would like to believe that I have trained myself out of procrastination somewhat over the years. Somewhat. Yet the last minute pressures still mandate a lot of my writing. I have learned to do my research and brainstorming well in advanced. Just the writing. Thus, I lay in bed tonight trying to memorize the full and complete paragraphs for three different compositions that came began drafting in the crowded space right behind my closed eyelids. I tried to force them back behind the curtains in order to relax. I remembered my mother's words "at least let your body rest," as I continued motionless under the covers will my brain was doing gymnastics of all sorts.
I began to pray. Many nights I have spoken softly with God, allowing Him to help me sort through the various thoughts and laying my burdens and trust at His feet for one more night. Tonight I remained distracted and in all desperation, unfolded myself from the warm sheets and came back to the computer screen. If nothing else, staring at a computer screen will unavoidably will me fall asleep. With eyes throbbing and head pulsing, my body is finally ready to give up for the night, and perhaps, thanks to SKATALAT, the 1995 named version of journal writing, I can let my mind rest as well.
