Wednesday, February 22, 2012

It can't have been nearly a year...

since I last wrote a blog entry, can it??

Time waits for no man. We now live in a house which overlooks the ocean, instead of a house which overlooks a stinky noisy industrial estate. We have guinea pigs in our backyard. We still struggle with things like not owning our own house, or not living near to extended family.

But the greatest of changes is this.
I don't want to be working anymore. GASP! Did I just write that?!

What a change of heart I have had these past few months. God is good. Now, don't hear me saying that mothers shouldn't work. Au contraire, working can be fantastic. Even the simple act of putting on clothes that don't have vegemite stains on them can be fantastic - and having them remain un-Vegemited for a whole day, even better. Having a desk which hasn't been artfully decorated by crayons. But for me, at this point in my life, it is no good.

For much of my adult life I have defined myself through an attachment to work, or to speak in Marxist terms, through my contribution to the economy (yes, I do appreciate the irony of an Arts specialist writing that!) Firstly as a student, then progressing to a PhD student, then to an historian. Don't get me wrong, I am glad - mostly - that I did finish the PhD. I think it would have caused problems down the track had I not finished it. Resentment, bitterness, all that delightful stuff. But I have worked, in some form or another, since my girl was 2 months old. I even told my sister-in-law that I would be taking into hospital drafts of a book to rewrite when I had Boysie-Boy (to which she gently replied 'it might be good to have a rest').

(This photo makes me laugh. Clearly I was a little excitable that evening. My supervisor, the one to my left, not quite as excited.)

So, I've come to the conclusion that I'm not doing anything very well at the moment. I'm missing out on lots of important things. I go to bed most nights thinking I didn't do a good job today.

Before this epiphany, I would think that I wasn't doing such a good job because of myriad variables: my child was too naughty/work was too hard/my husband wasn't supportive enough. None of which, in retrospect, were true in the slightest. It is time to focus on the things which matter to me. And those things are two little human beings who still, astonishingly, want me around, and one big human being who seems to like me still. 


I am so glad for second chances!

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