So I’m working away, diligently proofing a spreadsheet that I will then import to an online CRM we are using for work. And I’m down to the last three business cards in the stack of about 50. And at the exact moment I’m wondering when the last time was that I ‘saved’ the spreadsheet I’m working on, BLAM: the program Stops Working Unexpectedly.
How’s it going for you?
October is a strange month for me. The weather goes through some dramatic changes up here in the Northland and causes some dramatic changes in my mental outlook. I dislike winter. I’ve lived in this part of the world too long not to.
Now that I’m med free (COBRA ran out and I’ve been denied coverage because of pre-existing conditions) I’m basically free rangeing through seasonal emotions and what-not. The swings are dramatic, but I’ve taken to observing such swings from almost a ‘third-person perspective.’ So far, I’ve been able to reign myself back in and keep the crazies at bay. But only time will tell, right? I don’t have the time or money that will allow for the nervous breakdown I so desperately need.
If you notice me staring, glaze-eyed, out the window, I’m fine. Really. I’m just mentally vacationing in Bora Bora for as long as I possibly can manage to keep a single train of thought.
My little company has put on some serious miles in just this week. My partner was in Glendive MT on Monday; by Wednesday we were in Minneapolis; Thursday was Sauk Centre. Today, and rightly so, is a stay at home Mental Health Day. Today is also my 16th wedding anniversary.
Birthdays and Anniversaries are No Big Deal at my house. I doubt anyone will say anything or do anything - and as I don’t plan to say or do anything about it, I’m not expecting anything. I kind of like it that way. Keeps everything even.
My oldest daughter sent me a link a few days ago and I’ve been thinking about the article ever since. I recommend you read it. I found myself nodding in agreement with every paragraph. The cult of motherhood (or the “I’m a mother first” belief discussed in the article) is just that: a cult. The word “cult” in that sentence used with this definition: a misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing.
When I was in college I took a literature class (or maybe it was a writing class - memory fails) where we spent one of the sessions discussing “role.” In other words, determining what role you fill in your life and relationships (and how that impacted us as writers and readers, of course). A short list for me includes: daughter, grand-daughter, niece, cousin, god-child, sister, friend, student, athlete, woman, writer, aunt, girlfriend, lover, employee, boss, fiance, wife, mother…
“Mother” is just one of the many roles I fill as a human on this planet.
And I think - personally - that categorizing myself (or allowing myself to be categorized) into one role limits me, forcing me to look through (and be looked at through) a prism that does not reflect accurately.