Motherhood happened to me, quite like marriage. I always wanted, but was never prepared. I still feel, they were those milestones of my life that had happened already in future and waited for me to arrive there.
I got married twice. With the same guy. I was as unprepared the second time as naive I was first time. Motherhood happened two years later. I leaped into the future, still unprepared.
I gathered myself in bits, pieces and flies. I slept more than I needed. I laughed more than I felt like. All that to make myself comfortable with the new phase. To give myself an illusion that I was always meant to do this. This job of being mother.
I was living in extreme emotions. Too happy to be too sad. To gloomy to balance the unwanted happiness. I had to find survival tactics, I thought.
I started scribbling. Facebook, twitter, blogs. Kept pen and paper always within my reach. Made sketches. Amidst the sound of pen meeting paper, I started finding calmness. Writing was meditative. Made sketches of the expressions of people they carry on their face. It helped me to observe more. I started absorbing more from my surroundings.
I took pictures. We all had this habit of freezing the moments that shows sunshine, later that moment becomes the truth. The more I captured happiness, my immediate past started looking more beautiful. Unknowingly, I was rejecting the unpleasantness from my present. Those sunshine captured in photos were there to stay, to remind me of the smiles we gathered to pose for that photo. I was glad that when I arrived with camera, the person in the frame left their chores for a moment and looked at the lenses. That moment they prioritized me over themselves. I was happy for that moment. Even baby started obliging me once she started understanding what camera is.
I read. There was no easy way other than reading to transport in a world so different than my own. Kundera, Marquez and Tagore offered helping hands. Their characters were easy to slip into. Situation were relate-able in their pieces of fiction. I was going away to come back to myself. That oscillation was therapeutic.
I started choosing a day to be indiscipline. That helped me to be disciplined for many more days to come. A day of no schedule and work outsourced. Only taking basic care of the baby and absolutely nothing else. I felt rebellious. I earned some freedom being indiscipline. I spent that freedom while needed being disciplined.
I invited folks. In their presence, I portrayed the best of my life. While giving them the illusion that having baby is the best thing in the world, I started believing in that. Socializing in true old-fashioned way, helped.
Two years have passed, I am still surviving. Still scribbling, clicking, reading and letting myself free. There is no other-side of motherhood, it is always present continuous. Only we discover, fail and rediscover our surviving skills.