It’s a funny thing being part of a family. As I write this all of the other members of my family are upstairs playing video games. I’m sitting downstairs musing. The sounds of their good humour and laughter drift down the staircase and slide under the living room door, like smoke.
I’m not feeling anxious or apart from them. I know a little later we’ll all come together again for the living room is the hub of our home.
It’s a strange thing being a Mother. It’s like you take the best, shiniest pieces of you and slot them into your children. And as they grow your relationship with them and theirs with you changes and develops and diminishes in some ways and increases in others. You lose a sense of identity in a way but gain a whole new one. Separate yet together. No longer living just for yourself and your own desires but everything, every plan and goal must be run past the gambit that is family. And more oddly you don’t mind that. It seems correct, as it should be.
It’s a strange thing being a wife. Becoming one as the Bible says. Separate yet together. Two parts of one whole. Giving and taking has to be learnt. Well it had to for me because I’m inherently selfish. Sometimes you are the stronger spouse supporting your partner and sometimes they are. Supporting you, holding you while you weep, though oftentimes you don’t know why.
It’s a strange thing being a woman. There are so many expectations of your time. Should you go out to work or be a homemaker? Should you be a size zero or content as you are despite society’s ideas? Men are a strange study too. Like us but not like us. Separate yet together.
It’s an odd thing to be a writer. To filter out things that happen and things you hear. To determine what is fit for public consumption and what should never see the light of day. And if you write a blog like this will you talk about personal things? Will you talk about friends? Will the amount of editing needed make the effort worthwhile? . Will you talk about family?
Mostly I choose not to. We are not anonymous here. Real people read our words and our opinions. Often my opinions are only fit for my own mind and thoughts.
It’s an odd thing to be a member of the human race. Rushing along in our own little lives, racing to our own finish lines. Busy accumulating. Too often we fail to look back and see that others are experiencing difficulties and are lagging behind. Yet it isn’t meant to be like this. We belong to each other and were made to live in community. Separate yet together.