A little late night blog writing where I say “Adios, Lovah.”
Our four-week road trip had its valleys and its peaks. There were a lot of really tough moments on this trip for all of us, but it seemed especially for our youngest, Noah, that he just wasn’t okay with leaving his daily routine in his lovely home.
I can’t tell you how many times into the trip that we thought about turning around and coming back home. When you’re with a toddler that’s unhappy and you’ve got to travel 2500 miles round trip and you’re staying in homes you begin to question the task in front of you.
In fact, one really horrendous night where my coping skills had been entirely spent, I clicked “pay” to book a ticket to fly home with Noah, because I knew I couldn’t continue to deal with a very cranky toddler and another 2.5 weeks left of road tripping it. (There was an internet error and the ticket wasn’t purchased, crazy huh?)
But, we pushed through. And holy smokes it was worth it all. It was worth it because we got to live through a couple of life changing and incredibly redemptive moments together as a family, moments I simply don’t feel at liberty to talk about because, wow, people read my blog and I’m struggling to be personal here these days. (It’s a catch 22 isn’t it, this blogging thing.)
Anyway, four weeks later,we’re home and now my son, who before we left for our trip would happily go to bed without being rocked to sleep, now seems to cry at the very idea of going to bed, and he now wakes about 3 times a night, since coming home (which is still less than it was while we were road tripping it).
But you know what? This is mothering. It’s full of ups and downs, and seasons and growth, and hardship and satisfaction. I would be silly to expect otherwise. I accept this path, and I love my son for bringing me to a greater place of empathy towards his needs and the plight that other women with high-needs children go through. (More on that later.)
The other night, while I was rocking Noah for about an hour helping him to calm down and go to sleep, there was just one thing on my brain.
I must get rid of Facebook.
I’m not sure that I would call it a moment of clarity, and I have no idea why it was then that I thought this, but it was perfectly clear, in that moment at 3 AM, I wanted to send my Facebook account down the drain with the rest of all the fluff the internet distracts me with.
It’s like a 24-hour buffet of hit-or-miss food and I just can’t stop eating there.
I need to unplug from Facebook and I need to reconnect with things that I can touch and hold. I need more space to nurture my well-being and to replenish my coping skills – to fill up my cup. I need more time to write, or maybe just to sit on the couch and do nothing but listen to the quiet of my kids asleep, and the gentle song on the radio and smile at the dog – without a laptop within arms reach.
I feel like Facebook is a dual edged sword and there are days when I love the community that I have there and then there are days when it’s stealing my time and resources from my family, loved ones, and myself.
I’m not sure that stopping Facebook will help me achieve reconnection and healthy emotional nurturing, but it’s going to certainly give me more free time. And I need to have time where I don’t feel compelled to prove anything, or driven to keep my feed interesting, or have to chug out one more hit meme.
I need more time to heal, to regather, to listen, to play with my kids, to go to the gym, to read books from the library, to meditate, to cook, to put away laundry, to go to bed earlier and to start my day with a cup of coffee in my hand and a smile on my face, and not wonder about what’s happening in the thunderdome (i.e. Facebook).
In the meantime, I hope to do more blogging. There’s been a lot going on in my head and in our corner of the world and I’ve simply failed to share it, because well, I’ve got all these new folks reading my blog, and that’s kind of freaky, and heck my parents read this, and so do you, and what the what will you think of me if I start to get personal here. (That’s just a rhetorical question, as if showing pictures of me giving birth wasn’t personal enough.)
For now, I plan to hand my Facebook over to Peter. He’s going to create a password for my account that I won’t know. This will allow me to link up my blog posts to my Facebook pages and feeds, but not have the opportunity to invest additional time in the virtual world instead of my real world.
That means for the next couple of weeks I’m not going to see or read any comments on my pages, so if you want to comment, please do so on these blogs.
I hope to write again. I mean really write, but even then, if I don’t it’s okay. What I really hope to do is feel okay again, to regain my coping skills. And part of that will be found when I turn off some of the outside noises and find contentment in little things, allowing me to be more present in the life right in front of me.
Until then, this weekend I’m signing off – it’s going to hurt so good.
joy.
The Joy of This 