December 26, 2010
I'd coin 2010 the year of guilt. Not that I'd make Santa's bad list or anything like that. But if I had to rank my behavior this year, it would be around a 3 1/2. When I started this blog about a year and a half ago, my goal was to simplify life. And for awhile, I was darn good at it. But, old habits die hard and they come back from the dead pretty quickly.
To be honest, going back to work after twelve months of unemployment was a difficult transition. Jumping back into work was easy; just like riding a bike. But finding balance in my life wasn't. All of the cards played in my favor. A commute less than two miles from home, my youngest son's school right across the street from my office and a job with flexibility. It was more than I could ask for...near perfection.
Strangely, my entry back into the work force came with an enormous sense of guilt. I was ready to go back, my kids were prepared for me to go back and the checkbook screamed for me to go back. So what was the problem? The fear of losing all that I learned about life and its real purpose.
Guilt kept me real. It allowed me to enjoy a normal work week. It ensured that I'd be there for my kids 100%. And I was...most of the time. Sure there were no more gourmet four course meals at 6:00, but they didn't miss my cooking as I never quite mastered the skill. They were happy with even a frozen pizza, so long as I was there to make it for them. My kids just want Mom. I made sure that I spent time with each of them together and alone.
My writing has suffered since my return to work. It had to take a back seat to life even though it pains me. Its my true escape. The release of my true creativity. My novel sits there waiting to be edited and the hundreds of stories in my head continue to prod me to be let out. Sleeping has been difficult as the characters continue to develop new story lines and lives of their own when I finally let the analytic side of my brain take a rest. I'm committed to placing writing as a priority for 2011.
But this holiday season, guilt has taken its toll on me. Its built like a brick house with one heavy stone layered upon the next. I feel the weight pushing and pushing until it nearly paralyzes me physically and emotionally. Although the weight is so heavy, a simple feather can knock me over. With each time, the tears come to paralyze me again.
The fa la la la la and Jolly ole Saint Nick weren't inside me this year. I heard no Christmas carols even though they surrounded me. I made methodical plans and lists to ensure the perfect gifts for my loved ones. But again, paralyzed at the thought of actually purchasing them. One Friday morning, I sat in the parking lot of the local mall and watched the shopper go in and out with smiles and bags and bags of Christmas cheer. With list in my hand and a day off of work, I sat there in the SUV just staring at the sure madness inside the square, glittery facade of materialism. I couldn't get myself to leave the vehicle. Paralyzed again. There would be no lists checked, presents purchased or responsibilities completed that day.
So you are probably thinking right now...what the hell is wrong with this lady? Should we take her to the looney bin? A question I've asked myself a hundred times. But no. I'm just fine. I've learned to put things into perspective. I'm the mother of a child with a chronic illness. Each morning I wake up and say the prayer, "Dear God, please help me keep my child alive today." and "Dear God, please give me the strength to be a great mom to both my children."
This past week was riddled with two very serious day's attempting to keep my child alive amidst people who "just don't get it." Amidst a society that's measured on wealth and materialism. Although on Christmas Eve this year I wasn't able to participate in the traditional festivities, I had the blessed opportunity to hold my sick child and thank the Lord for the birth of his son, Jesus Christ our Savior.
So while I held my son and ate Chunky Soup out of a can, I had no guilt. The best gift of all.
