Loving Motherhood

Today after a long time, I am enjoying motherhood. I am laughing with my child, not pretending to.
I can hold him freely, not because I have to. And, I am happy I can play with him instead of simply feed, clean and put him to sleep.

It's been a long semester. Looking back, with one final exam and directed study paper left to turn in, I feel like it was worth the hassle but there were complications (as expected).

Now my priorities have changed. I'm a mother, wife, student then daughter.

Therefore sometimes that meant making sure baby was fed before husband ate, and homework would be put off until baby was asleep. Lastly that meant fewer stops at the parent's house for random visits.

Life sure does take a toll on mental age.

Getting stupidly lucky

High school teachers told us college wasn't the same. We wouldn't get spoon-fed information, homework reminders and we'd have to be responsible for our actions - finally.

But I got stupidly lucky.

Sadly but truly, most teachers were humble and let us turn in things late. They would mark us down but the procrastination and the shumble-fumbled priority list along with a dose of laziness would take over and make me think, "Well why not turn in something late than not at all?"

Consequences.

Since my freshman year I can say I have been given breaks, over and over again. I have been told, warned, reminded "true colors show" and not to procrastinate. I talked to teachers, asked friends for advice, talked to a psychiatrist to avoid a) being late for class and b) stop procrastinating.

I write to-do lists. I got a washboard. I write reminders;, online, on my phone and even on pieces of paper.

I repeat things to myself.

What else can I do?

I noticed one thing that significantly influences my time schedule is whether I pray on time or not. If I do, I have better chances of getting things done or not feeling bad for not.

Although there were strict teachers, which I knew I had to strive harder to avoid being late or not get into extra trouble, the procrastination eventually catches up.

What can I do?

I'm a bad liar but I can think of excuses I make for myself once I get caught up. I'm late.

I was diagnosed with D a few years ago. I have anxiety attacks and high levels of stress, often. But that is not an excuse to not get things done.

I hate being late, making people wait, getting people mad and at the same time I end up doing it. I let myself down.

Sadly I want to be a journalist but I can think of a dozen steps I went wrong, and wasn't on time. Meeting deadlines. I know I don't want a job where I have to constantly update, stress and worry about running around to instantly type up a story. But that's where the market is.

Maybe I should go back to drafting a book about my life. I can write plenty.

The Dilema

Wake up early or go to bed late?
Running out of time, the story of my life. Although it seems like at times I don't have anything to do, I have plenty on my to-do list. From homework to reading assignments, papers to write, phone calls to make, and research to do.

But when? When can I do these long list of things. Between cooking and minor cleaning? Between feeding times and prayer times? While vacuuming, shutting the door on other little kids in my home or ignoring the guests who unexpectedly arrive.

Feed child or do another quick interview, while he cries?
The saying goes, "Just come home and do your homework."

I don't have my own car right now. I get driven to and from school, on my parents' time, who I don't even live with. Rather than stay longer hours, I'm usually prompted to come home - so I can take care of my child. What about homework? Well, that will have to wait. Wait until after I'm done feeding the baby, eating myself, helping the hubby, waiting for the office to empty of strangers, the phone becomes available for use and prayer times are over.

Oh and if the family decides to go anywhere, well can't be shoddy and not tag along, now can I? And if I don't, I feel guilty or left out. I'm not big on socializing with family friends I "barely know."

And then there's the other option, letting someone else watch the baby while I do my work. Sure.
So I leave him downstairs with his grandmother. But I can hear every single cry. It's only a few minutes before I sweep him up, either to my dismay or out of feeling like I"m abandoning my child. I know I can't comfort him 100% of the time.

I make up for my attachment by avoiding holding him for too long, more five minutes at a time, unless necessary.

Plan C: leave him at my parents' house. They don't see him as much as my in-laws, who I live with. And they love having one baby to watch - opposed to three at a time. Plus how can you reject the googly face? Sure enough there will be a panicking phone call to follow the visit while I'm running around trying to get people to talk to me about my topic of interest.

Homework or lunch?

I rather starve than eat while I have much to do. But too much stress means I'm more prone to a weak immune system, not to mention the handful of times I went to the doctor this time and the 2 lbs. I can barely gain back after marriage and pregnancy. I'm at 118 lb. with the consequences of having low iron, continuous stomach problems and feeling weak. My doctor said, "Try to avoid stress as much as possible."

Idk how to do it. I try but I always give in to reshuffling priorities.

Interviews or housework?
There is much sweeping, vacuuming, laundry, cooking and not to mention baby-sitting in a house of 13. It's a choice, shoddiness (shaddiness) or helping out. Helping out while you planned to do some homework, which pushes back time to do homework, which runs into the time the baby wakes up to eat, and then that snowballs into a tired me who is in need of sleep or falls asleep.

Accidentally fall asleep or stay anxious every moment of life to keep up?
It's 4:30 a.m. I just dozed off for four hours and didn't get my assignment done. Should I get up and start doing homework again? Can I shake off the scary feeling? Or shake off the wave of depression I feel when I think of what a big failure I am for not being able to get things done on time. I doze back to sleep, feeling defeated.

The cycle is chained and continues. And although sometimes I force myself to be proactive, I often feels like I'm stuck

Can you see it?

Fresh cold water
Tickles of ice-cream
A shiny empty glass of water
Round pebbled grapes
Twinkling golden stars
Sizzling tender delicious steaks
Pot-boiled potatoes with sour cream
A brown firm chair with vertical lines
A slick professional black chair
A round smooth white-and-black pen
A square phone with jagged edges

Flying away like a bird
Soaring through the sky

Empty eyes with a heart of gold
No one knew what was inside

Fluttering aimlessly
With no real destination in mind

Patches started to emerge
Those patches, I shook to remove.

Looking down was not a way out
Nor was it the right thing to do

Birds do not need the wind to fly
They need the strength to be free

A bird has permission to
Soar the blue skies openly

A bird, it is what I call,
My soaring destiny

I wouldn't be

If it weren't for the bruise
I will wear on my sleever forever --
I'd never understand who I am today.

If it weren't for constant roadblocks,
Feeling completey lost,
I wouldn't be me.

If it weren't for my parents,
Who strived in every way
To be there for us...

They picked up the phone on the other line,
Walked up behind us, stood in front of us.
I wouldn't be who I am today.

If it weren't for having a cloudy mind,
For having rock iron faith --that God did exist.
I wouldn't be here today.

Anxiety

The walls are starting to cave in.
I keep losing and gaining my breath.

I feel the rhymic pulse in my forhead.
My headache seems to be getting stronger and stronger.

It's that feeling of nervousness all over again.
The feeling of doom returns.

The hostile situations syndrome.
The 'I can't stand it anymore' syndrome.

Anxiety...whether it's from a
A proposal, an accidental death, a murder or a death...

It happens, it's normal but,
I'll just have to pretend

Not to notice the surge of butterflies
Riding a roller coaster inside of me.

I'll have to pretend it can't get in the way,
Can't hurt or bother me.

Nervous.
I can't even begin to explain.

You'd only know if you woke up every time
I had to sit up in bed and gasp for breath.

There is a kind of loneliness about a summer day
A 22-year-old cannot explain.

There are no longer childhood visitors stopping in for a few minutes,
Only bored family members dropping by for tea.

There is something about looking at walls that restrict the mind.
They keep the thoughts from flowing.

A gray husky air lingers,
And stops short of air.

Plain windows, often hidden by curtains reveal limited sunshine.
The sun stays hidden from view.

The wind barely interrupts the daily tasks;
Cooking, cleaning, laundry, gardening.

There are days when the routine goes to rest,
To fish out ailing neighbors, family members and community people.

There are those days, forshadowed by heat-consuming cooking,
Pushing around a broom and pausing for short breaths.

When visiting a person frees ones mind from the cloudy hazy summerness
That begins with a season meant for the outdoors.

A season which leaves the insiders,
As outsiders; ignored and restless.

Summer Days, outside

On beautiful breezy summer days
I lay quietly on my bed.

I dream of flying birds, pesky mosquitos and a grateful wind.
I smell the breeze, light gentle and one to please.

There is none of that in my four-walled room.
I sit and wait for nothing.

Often looking back at a chilhood so raw,
Kite-flying, badminton-playing, frisbee-throwing...

I don't like picking the leaves of green beans,
Upturning black soil with seeds.

I don't like watering the lawns which were God-gifted.
I like eating their blossoms and belongings.

Once I ran the fields with  a soccer ball,
Hit the end of a white volleyball.

Sitting quietly on a bench even when in the park,
I long for a childhood that neither restricted nor held my arms tied.