Me: Chatty, friendly, loud, funny (though I prefer to use humorous), expressive (love the hugs, kisses and beware of the anger and abuses), adventurous, girl in love with books, music and badminton, enjoys writing and often lauded for her writings, love to speak and equally patient listener, enjoys long conversation over coffee and snacks, a friend for all seasons.
This is ME.....a decade ago.
Me: Wife, mother, dutiful to her roles but neglects her inner soul, irritated, more frowns than laughter, more tears than cheers, busy trying to strike a rhythm in her life that she misses the good ol music, a rather boring self, living to regret yesterdays and forgetting to enjoy the todays...and depressingly detached from books and frustratingly fighting with her writing skills.
It's not a 'poor me' post, it's more a 'I need a kick-on-my-ass' writing. It's been more than two years since I entered the 'unemployed' category. Part of it was substituted with the 'freelance/work from home' tag which at least saved me from the 'wasting herself' group. I did enjoy the initial months..there was regular work, regular money (though not much). Then my baby came, I was busy playing mommy and enjoying it too. Somewhere along, the professional in me felt neglected, I guess. She felt a loner, unwanted and ignored by all. For today, when I try to befriend her, cajole her back into life, she resists....and strongly too!
I tell myself 'I wanna get back to work', I wanna be productive (not by just bearing a child), wanna use my skills (besides the ones I use in the kitchen/bedroom). Fortunately there have been wonderful friends who've helped me cope with this frustration and help me get back on track. But every time I vowed to give it my all, my home would mess up with one problem or the other...either a maid, or an overly busy partner, or a super-cranky son...and more and more.
Amidst all this a stubborn professional in me who refuses to come out of hiding. All the projects I have worked on in the recent months have been last-minute rushes, simply because the writer in me continues to be in hibernation. I am in front of the computer almost all day, excepting meal times and play times with my son. I struggle with an opening, then scribble some random lines, delete them, cry over my helplessness, read through some of my earlier writings or blogs (mine and others), get back to work....if am lucky get a little work done and then it's back to feeling hollow.
It's not that I have been asked to find ways to meet the ever-increasing alcohol demands of Kerala, or do a post-mortem on the Taj attack in Mumbai or write why the Congress and the Bachchans are warring. The topics I have are simple, refreshing, green and soothing. And yes very close to home, too. Something about me fails to get excited or inspired about it. A dear friend out there is at the receiving end of my (definitely not complacency) fight with the inner self. Funnily enough, just today I read the same friend say 'we should love/enjoy our inner self'.
I strongly believe reading does a lot to your mind and soul...and your heart. I've been away from the books (except for the interior mags which I've taken a sudden liking to) for too long. It's this vaccum that needs to be filled, and that will provide the fuel and inspiration for the inner talent in me. Until then I continue my struggle...word by word...I'll complete by work.