I used to write

I used to write...a lot. Of course, I used to have a whole lot of alone time...too much alone time. I have traded this alone time for a lot of work and hardly ever ANY time alone and not enough of me to even begin to know where to start writing again. It is AWESOME! I miss some things, TV shows that are not animated, books without pictures, peeing and bathing alone, vacuuming at 1am without fear of waking anyone, being out of my house at night, and other equally not important things. I do miss writing though I do not miss needing to write. It kept me going for a long time. At times, it even kept me alive. It was the only way I knew to purge my soul. I think I want to try to carve out some time for myself and see what my soul has to say. It is so full now. I think it might have some great stuff to say. When my soul was empty, it had a lot to say. What will it say full? I am no where near who I once was that that me seems as though it was someone else. I see her sometimes...when I have had a bad day, or I do not feel well...I see her in the mirror. I feel differently about her than I used to. I am more patient with her when she is around and she doesn't stay as long. Sometimes she frustrates me, like she used to, but I have learned that if she is here, it is because I am not doing a good job of taking care of me.

I am so tired that my thoughts are jumbled and making little sense. I just needed to make an effort here. It was an odd day and not good odd. But, even the bad things happened in a way that was as good as possible. So much worse could have come out of the things that were bad. I am grateful.

I used to sit in deafening silence

In an empty apartment

Hearing the sounds of my own heart

Beating only because that was its job,

And hearing the TV

Or the lives of others

Rushing around outside my door.

I used to sit a lot

And do nothing.

I used to drive at night and get lost in movies

And stay up late and sleep in while time crept by

And go places and do things with my friends,

But not now.

Now, even the silence is not silent.

I hear breathing all around me.

I live in a house that is full of life

And my heart beats for those who live here.

I still hear the TV,

But the lives of others is muffled by

The lives that are one with my own.

I rarely sit, and if I sit

It is to rock the small people

Who call me "Mommy"

Doing nothing is a foreign concept

Driving at night so rare

That I struggle to locate my headlights

I no longer get lost in movies

I now get lost in the pretend play

That swirls and changes with each breath

Of each child trying to keep up with their own ideas.

I still stay up late, I have to

Lest the house and its contents take over and choke us all,

But there are no more late mornings in my world.

Time goes too fast these days to sleep in and miss a moment.

I used to be a lot of things that I lost

But I do not miss them

I traded them in for things that are so much better.

I live now...not just physically

But in my soul, where it counts.

My soul sings and dances and does not care who is watching

Or that it has no rhythm or that it sings off key.

It cannot help itself.

When I lost all of me...

I became found.

When I did not know who I was

It was because I was not yet me.

I thought that I was supposed to be

That which I was named

But then,

At long last

I discovered the real me

And her name is

Mommy.

-A. Christine Tolar

April 28, 2011