Reclusive Pear

I have always been one to take things to extremes.  As such, I can't just be an involved parent with a bit less time for people - I've quit socialising.  Well, not entirely.  But really most people are now off the list, and the simplest way to describe it has been to explain that I am now a recluse.

Days are long in this job, and I do get lonely.  Some days I feel that I left the world, and the world didn't miss me.  But I just don't have the emotional energy to look after anyone else - myself and the child are quite enough people to take full-time care of - or be polite.  So lonely is better than over-burdened.  Even beloved husband has become my saviour more than my companion.  I promise husband, we'll be ourselves again... someday.

I've also quit drinking.  (Again, not entirely, there will be occasional occasions for quite a few bevvies.)  It has only been two weeks since I got utterly messy at my Nanna's wake, but it feels like a real life change.  As little one has chosen this same time to suddenly cease sleeping through the night, there hasn't been a miraculous and instant feeling of freshness to the mornings, but there is a gentle improvement that I am looking forward to furthering.

Meanwhile I have covered my blackboard with a random list of "things I'm good at".  The purpose is not as it may have once been - a self-absorbed, self-esteem boosting exercise - but an attempt to workshop an idea for a book.  I may or may not write a novel someday, but for now, I feel that surely there's something I can write a more practical tract on.  Surely there is something, some unique combination of things, that I know, that others don't know, that they would like to know.  And surely if I put them in writing I can make some pocket-money out of... whatever it is.

In reality the way to make money in my life is to work for an employer.  And so, sadly, I head back to the day-job (part-time) the day after my first Mothers' Day.  And the little one starts day-care.  My little extravert is going to love it, and start the slow, steady process of breaking mummy's heart by not needing me.  I'm scared and proud and sad and happy that I'm raising such a happy, confident little chap.  I imagine that he might be quite surprised one day to discover that his hilarious, energy-packed, confident mother is also a shy person who doesn't work well with others.