This week, for The Red Dress Club’s Red Writing Hood assignment, we were asked to rework a previous post, something that we were initially proud of. This is the piece I selected. It was my second post on this blog.
It sits, ignored, in a darkened room with a concrete floor. It sits, on the bottom rack of a metal shelf, amongst luggage and boxes and Christmas decorations and a stray lamp shade. It sits, gathering dust, in the liminal space between where the washing machine runs and the tools wait to be used.
It proclaims, in an ancient language I never learned to read, that I succeeded.
Its crimson crest and gold seal announce that a woman whose name I no longer bear accomplished a long-sought goal.
It hung, for years, proudly in a room with windows, visible for all to see and projecting an aura of confidence and seriousness that I never felt really fit me.
But now, it waits in the dark.
Certainly the process by which it came to its new home was torturous—I was confused and sad and angry, very, very angry.
Angry, I think, at my perception of a world that promised me a dream, a balance, that I couldn’t make happen, no matter how I tried.
And I grieved for the woman I was, and for those dreams.
He doesn’t know it’s there. He hasn’t noticed it. Apparently it’s not as interesting as the mop that lives near it.
He has no idea how much earning it cost me.
And he certainly doesn’t understand how and why it came to be where it is now.
Or the sacrifice that move entailed.
But he does understand the consequences of its new home. He knows that if he is scared or hurt, I am there. That the tickle attack or reading session will last as long as he likes. That we walk, hand in hand, wherever he wants.
In his mind, we spend every day laughing and playing together.
This is his life—his reality.
I love that.
And I love my time with him.
That’s why, for now, it waits.
Life on the Mama Track supports all women in whatever career and family decisions they choose. This post is meant neither as a recommendation for staying home nor one against working full-time. It is simply my story.
I love your breath-taking honesty. always.
I also *really* love that this was your 2nd post to your blog! How amazing to look back there.
This line -And I grieved for the woman I was, and for those dreams- really struck me for the powerful emotion.
Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.
the liminal space….how delightful. This really cast a spell. That whole opening sequence was so vivid.
I love how your story captures the balance between who we were, who we are, and how we are a bit of both of those people. And how we’re always trying to make it fit.
It’s funny, I read my old papers from college and think, “Who is this person who knew so much about rhetoric? Or Ancient Greece? Who spoke Spanish?”
Sometimes, she feels like a stranger.
So nicely expressed here.
I agree–sometimes I do feel like she’s a stranger. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. For now, at least.
I love it. Really, really love it.
It says so much …. and your 2nd post! Wow. Please don’t read my second post because I’m sure that it was nothing worth reading.
“Angry, I think, at my perception of a world that promised me a dream, a balance, that I couldn’t make happen, no matter how I tried.
And I grieved for the woman I was, and for those dreams.”
this, told me all about you I ever need to know, and I love that girl, that woman who is my friend. We try so hard to find the balance and I think you’re doing an amazing joy doing that my friend. xo
Oh, I can totally relate (again)! I am working part time, but I do sometimes feel a loss for what would have been re: my career. But one look at my daughter’s glowing smile when we’re playing Pretty Pretty princess for the 8th time in a day… it’s all I need. For now. Thanks for sharing!
My boys recently ripped my diploma. I don’t know which of them did it, but it happened. And I did this hysterical laugh that was almost a cry as I realized that it might as well be gone.
Such a powerful piece!
I’m so sorry to hear about your diploma! Even if it’s just a piece of paper, it has meaning to the one who earned it. Hugs to you!
This is gorgeous. I can really relate to it.
It brilliantly captures the conflict that I think every mom feels, working or no. Good job, you.
I can really relate to this for sure! And mine also has a name on it that I no longer use.
This is really good and thoughtful. Someday again… maybe…
What I loved the most was what ‘he’ didn’t notice, and then what he did, the reading, tickle attacks, safety from fear, it was perfect for underlining the change in your life.
Really nice piece.
This was beautiful…and pretty timely for me. My diploma is waiting for different reasons. I’m not a mom yet, but neither am I where I want to be in my career. The job I have now is just that…a job, so my diploma waits, gathering dust. Hopefully, one day I will find my purpose.
Great post…visiting from TRDC.
Great post like always! Such emotion.
I can’t even remember my second post on my space…I should go take a look though I doubt it is as pivitol as yours
Oh so many of us can relate to this. And I’m with Galit, your honesty is absolutely breath taking.
LOVE!
Love this. So speaks to me.
I love the juxtaposition (as your son goes for the mop next to the diploma) of something that once was so very important to you with one who is and forever will be so important.
I love your honesty about how you felt as you chose to replace the career (for now) with the child. Expresses well the good, but tough, choices we make as women.
Beautiful piece.
This is so beautiful. I’m with the others, I love your honesty.
Love this piece and how every word is placed so carefully. So vivid and poignant and I love your voice. And the message…holy crap, the message.
I know you’ve gotten a few comments about the line, “And I grieved for the woman I was, and for those dreams,” but I have to comment, too, on how touching that was to me, and how it even initiated a lump in my throat. How I love my children more than anything and wouldn’t trade what I now do, but how I long for the person I once was (or even the person I am, still buried deep inside).
Great post!!
I loved the use of “it.” It immediately reels you into the story. We all have an “it” sitting somewhere on a shelf ignored. I also love that it sits patiently waiting for its day in the sun, while you tend to your son’s needs. Priorities.
I love this so much – for its imagery, for its feeling of wistfulness, and for what it tells me about you! Staying at home can be a gift, but it does involve a sacrifice and a realignment of goals and priorities. I think a lot of people think about it from a financial standpoint and never address the other, more personal side of it.
Oh I loved this! I love the powerful choice of words and it is a feeling that all I can relate too……..that feeling that you are missing some part of you or the “you” you thought you would be. Thank you
I needed to read that tonight. Thank you.
Okay…I realize I am REALLY on the late freight with my comment here. But this post is everything I want and fear at the same time. A Master’s Degree Mama I sometimes call myself. My husband and I worked so hard to make it possible for me to have a choice, for me to be able to stay home past those 5 months maternity leave if I wanted to. And I wanted to!!! But somehow all the effort, all the education, and the paycheck make me immobilized with fear and I just cannot take the leap into SAHM. If I quit I’d become out of the loop and almost unhirable in just a few years. But posts like this just get the itch going enough that maybe one day I’ll be strong enough and have the courage to just do it.
Thanks for sharing mama!! Had me tearing up a little in my office;)
Jen @ SlightlyCrunchyMama.com recently posted..Nine Months
[...] home after she had children. If you are interested in other parts of my story, you might enjoy: Waiting, Life on the Mama Track: The Prologue, Truth and Consequences, My Life, My Shoes, Stolen, and Let [...]
A beautiful post…I resonate with SO much of the tension of this life…the memories of a girl trying to achieve a dream and finding yourself at home reading stories to your child..moments you wouldn’t give up for anything, but which don’t seem to reconcile themselves with the woman you spent years trying to become…it’s such a strange dichotomy of personality…
Thank you. I’m glad you liked it. It is a very personal post for me.
[...] It’s been two years. [...]
[...] moved it, the other day, from its dusty home on the floor in my basement. It seemed safer to put it on a high metal shelf. Out of the range of [...]
“And I grieved for the woman I was, and for those dreams.”…. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of that myself. This post is exactly how I feel/felt about being a stay-at-home mom. This is beautiful!
Kate recently posted..Essence of Now: Playtime