Living in the Margins

Hi friends,

This month, I watched about a third of a movie and am putting off the 2023 round-up yet again.

I feel sad about this somewhat dramatic and abrupt change in my ability to engage in two things that are really important to my identity as a whole person, not only a caregiver: writing and watching movies. I also feel a bit anxious about this change, because I don't totally understand why it suddenly feels like the already very thin margins on the logistics and demands of my life have suddenly gotten even narrower.  

That's maybe because it's not due to only one thing.  There are the obvious contributing factors, like our Second Child becoming more mobile and communicative in the months before and since his first birthday, and enduring the cliché parade of different kid-borne plagues, the latter of which at best slowed the rate at which we're able to handle the everyday tasks of life and work.  I've also gradually started to increase my work hours while simultaneously trying to stay on top of various routine obligations like doctor and vet appointments.  And then there are the "bonus" unanticipated disruptions, like being sent on a wild goose chase of possibly buying a second car because of a dubiously dire assessment from an unfamiliar mechanic about our current one (lesson learned: always get a second opinion, ideally from a mechanic you already know and trust), or rescuing a cat who showed up in our backyard and yelled at us through the window until we finally gave him the chance to walk right into a cat carrier and set up temporary residence in one of our bathrooms, or the surprisingly large lift of completing enough continuing education credits to renew one of my licenses.

On the lighter side of things, Husband and I have also recently rediscovered our love for Love Island as well as discovering a new show we're really enjoying, which together gobble up the potential movie-watching time in the evenings.  I've been putting a lot of effort into meeting and building relationships with other parents in our neighborhood, and also unwittingly but joyfully building relationships with several types of local wildlife who now frequent our backyard.

It all makes sense when I lay out all the things that have accumulated to the point that they fully color in the page of my life to its very outermost edges.  I just keep waiting for there to be a little more breathing room, a little more consistent reprieve from the happy relentlessness of this stage of life.  It truly is happy, but it truly is also relentless.

I started this blog as an accountability check during grad school, to hold myself accountable to myself for making space for my whole self as I engaged in a process that could easily consume everything I had to offer: learning to be a psychologist.  I am not only a caregiver.  I knew that then, and I know that now.

The happy trouble is, I'm really good at caregiving, and I love doing it.  I love my work and I love parenting and I love maintaining everything that is my family, including my home and all the living things within (and around) it.  It gives me a deep sense of fulfilled, values-directed purpose and satisfaction.  That signals a change in my caregiving that I've taken stock of recently--I'm caring for things in a way that doesn't feel like pouring into a bottomless vessel.  I used to do a lot of that impossible kind of caregiving, and it was at times pretty devastating.  At best, it was draining, made me feel devalued, and cloudied my mental vision.  I think I've become more realistic about what I'm responsible for and what my care can and cannot accomplish, and when I stay within the new boundaries that awareness creates, caregiving feels radically different.

Now, I feel the ways in which my love and care can create an echo chamber in the same way depression, fear, or trauma can.  I feel my own care and love reflected back to me, and added to, when I'm with my children and husband, when I see a fox in our backyard or hear birds singing around our house, when I know more of my neighbors, and when I do my work.  Each of these things is evidence of the love and care I've planted blooming.  I'm tired, overworked, and overwhelmed most of the time now, but I'm also happy and emotionally full most of the time, too.

So where in all this do movies fit?  I don't know.  They don't really, at least not with the regularity they used to.  I've taken to reassuring myself that however over-the-top things feel right now, my life won't feel like this forever.  There will be times when there is more freedom in my days for other things, and hopefully I'll enjoy those, too, because the love and care I plant continues to yield a bountiful and broad harvest.

I'm genuinely so excited for the movies I'll watch when it's possible again.  There's so much good stuff out there to see.

{Heart}