What did I do before kids? I'm sure I didn't utilize my time as I should have. I think of the years of "me time" that I wasted and cringe. Why wasn't I strapped to the keyboard writing the next best seller or maybe drinking champagne in bubble baths of unicorn tears and guffawing haughtily at people chasing their children all day? Why didn't I spend the entire day in bed eating chocolate and having sex? Why didn't I holiday to tropical islands and trek through the Nepalese mountains on the back of a yak? Why? Well for a start we were poor students, unicorns don't exist, I chuckle, snort and giggle but not guffaw and most of all, it wasn't something I thought I could do.
Being a responsible adult, now that is something I could do. I saw my friends grow up and become adults and I wanted that, but I thought I had to change to become the adult who had the mortgage, the cars, the house, and the kids. I come from a long line of hardworking, save your money, buy a house, scrimp and save, type people. Gorgeous people all of them, but somehow the gene that is responsible for the hardworking realist was deleted in me. I have tried and I hate it. This will make me sound bone idle but I loathe hard work. I don't understand those people who thrive on the hustle and bustle of their job. They get up early and stay out until late, work weekends and get call outs, survive on only hours of sleep and you'd never know because of all the caffeine they drink. They freakin love it! I'd rather kill myself slowly by paper cut. Back when I worked full time I thought it was the worst idea anyone ever came up with. Seriously? I have to do this every day? I am not the sort to burn the candle at both ends and forty hours felt like way too many hours to me. Isn't it too many for everyone? I just don't get these career oriented people, I mean, go you. You're rocking that shit, but that life is not for me. It's not what I wanted to do.
Being a Supermum, I could do that. The house was spotless, the kids dressed perfectly, all the bills were paid well in advance. We had playtime and healthy food with no grease and we read for a recommended minimum of fifteen minutes a day. Being a Supermum was sucking balls. I adored my kids but I wasn't as much fun as I should have been. I was so stressed out about keeping the house immaculate and making sure that nothing EVER went wrong for anybody in my house that I ended up a nervous wreck who was more concerned with dirt than laughter. Supermum wasn't who I wanted to be.
|Being an adult and wearing pink. WTF?|
It wasn't until I had a huge kick in the arse by the universe that I slowly started to change things. Thirty was not my year. In fact, either was thirty one. I had a few bad years where I decided that the universe was an evil asshat who needed to leave me the fuck alone. It didn't though and kept at me until I listened.
I had to change the way I thought. I could.
I don't want to trek mountains (although it would be highly appropriate considering the blog name) or sail tall ships or whatever the hell young whipper snappers dream of these days, but I can do whatever I like. What if this is the only life I get? How is it any use living it so other people think I'm living well? I was a friggin mess and nobody on the outside knew. After a lot of work on myself, I know that life doesn't need to be perfect and neither do I. I used to put on such a front of perfection and I was so miserable. I don't think I'm alone in that, but we don't talk about it. We don't talk about the pressure of being an adult, a parent, a daughter or a partner. Sometimes life is tough and we keep secrets about it so nobody would know how bad things are. The last five years of my life have taught me that secrets fester and turn to poison, people won't relate to you if you aren't being you and taking the odd moment to yourself will not kill your children. So now I go to Soundwave, I write every day and I don't feel guilty. And maybe one day, I might even guffaw. Who knows, the possibilities are endless!