A peek into my thoughts

Here I am. Writing. Wow.

I’ve wasted most of the time I had to write scrolling and texting and dilly dallying.

And maybe that’s okay.

We don’t always have to be productive. Right?

We all need to zone out a bit - she tells herself.

Whatever. I’m not writing here to shame myself.

I’m writing to free myself.

Huh?

Okay.

Will this ever go anywhere? Who knows. We’ll see.

So many questions.

Anyway. Being a mom is the best. And I, stereotypically, feel like I was made for it.

Not in my younger years. But now, yes.

AND it’s really hard to create and make things and have an outlet.

I’ve gotten some suggestions from other moms. Have a station out so you can paint when you walk by. Block off the time after they go to bed. Find little pockets in the day to just write or draw or do anything.

Some good ideas.

But the problem is that I want to go to band practice. I want to sit in a sweaty room with my friends dilly dallying for too long before we finally turn up the volume and scream our feelings out.

I want to have at least two hours to decompress together. And also I need lots of alone time after to sit with my thoughts and my lyrics and my ideas and creativity. To let it simmer and boil over into something I’m proud of.

Not because I need to be proud of it. But because when something feels true, it feels worthy of pride.

And maybe I’m just being nostalgic. And I do need to find the new way that I can engage with creativity.

Really though I need to be honest - not all creativity speaks to me. Most are fine and scratch an itch but not THE itch.

Only music does that for me.

And I just don’t know how to make the pieces fit yet. And maybe they just don’t. And eventually they will again.

Maybe a family band is the answer.

Though I think my lil honey may try to take over as lead singer and then I’ll have to actually get good at guitar so…. We’ll see.

Maybe I’m just making excuses.

Or maybe I just know myself.

And it’s okay that this isn’t the season for music. I mean it hurts. A lot.

But it has for a long time. I’ve done this before. And we’re here again. And I just have to find the bandaids until the the day finally comes when the wound is healed and its time to let some fresh air in again.

It would be much more convenient to be into other forms of art, I think. Maybe not. But that’s what I think right now.

I do like crafts. I like crochet. And knitting. Well I hate knitting but I also enjoy it. (If you knit you must know.) and cross stitch.

But again. They just don’t scratch THE itch.

And needlepoint is also not that easy with a wild child.

I love my wild child. Truly more than anything. Would do anything for him. Would not trade a single second.

But I can have these feelings too.

And I want him to see us playing music and making music and expressing ourselves in the way that feels most true to us. So I do think its important to get back there. To find the way to bring it into the day.

And yes we both sing to him everyday and there are many instruments (mostly guitars and ukulele) that we play with and for him.

But you know.

So here I am writing. Screaming my feelings to my laptop. And you, dear reader.

Maybe you can relate. Or not.

This is an outlet but I’m not looking for answers. They’ll only come from within.

I’m too stubborn for advice. Sorry.

And thank you.