What’s the cost of being and doing only for yourself? The words to “Creep” by Radiohead have been playing in my head this morning. After a few moments, bling, the light came on. I’ve been living the last week like it’s just me and that isn’t dovetailing as sweetly as I’d like. Mostly the music has been more positive, the other day it was Sammy Davis Jr. singing “I gotta be me!”
I had a few years on my own before I became a mom. Not a lot, but enough to get a really good taste of what being on my own, just for me, was like. Crazy, fun, stupid, fun, unwise times.. but did I mention the fun? No one to be responsible for in any way but myself. I was responsible, I went to work, paid my bills and had fun. ‘Cause that’s what girls just wanna have.
I’ve been kind of duplicating that, to a very small degree over the last week or so. I have two main goals to fit into my schedule for this years first quarter; to care for my body in ways I’ve been neglecting, not just exercise but meditating daily. The other is to write the fictional story that’s been waiting a long time to be spun. I wake early, exercise, take all the time I want to meditate, and when I would normally be doing a million other things, I write. Here comes the sun baby. I’ve gone from writing notes out by hand, to using the computer. It’s thrilling to see the pages appear, filled with the adventures of my main character. This is more than fun.
My sleep has been off, I wake a few times a night feeling afraid I’ve overslept, and/or have dreams filled with images and ideas about the story I’m writing. Between the two, I can get pretty sleepy near the early evening. Or I’m wide awake past eleven. The ideas I love, the boost of energy in the morning from the exercise, I love, but the other night I went to bed at seven because that’s all I could do. Basically, I find myself short on patience one minute, revved with energy the next, falling asleep on the couch when I should be preparing dinner. Not everyday, not every night, but it’s like my internal clock is having trouble adjusting. Or maybe it’s freaking out, I can’t say. Will the real Slim Shady please stand up? And I feel like a Creep with a capital “C” for ignoring everyone but Sam and the kids. Short or no emails and text messages have been leaving my fingers, and phone calls? Fogetaboutit. I realize I’m not only guarding my time, but where I am. I’m at home, I’m writing. I’ve discovered I can write in a twenty minute window, which is unheard of for me. And it’s as if I NEED to do this. Go out? Are you kidding me? And miss this train? Not as long as I’ve got a ticket to ride. Ouuu, time to hop aboard Duke Ellington’s A Train. Wooo Wooooo!