return to present day

Last week, I took a vacation from work. We all have a preconception of what "vacation" is supposed to be. Going places, doing stuff, relaxing, adventuring, getting away from everything.

There is no such thing as getting away, not for me, not right now, because I won't take any real breaks from my responsibility to my child.

What's preventing that is the fact that I don't want it to be like my child is only along for the ride. He isn't an accessory. It is essential that he be an equal part of the life we're building, always.

Being the parent of a tiny person means, to me, giving up my independence for a time. It's the hardest thing about being a parent right now.

But I'm stubborn and won't change my mind on that point.

Eventually, as my child gains his own independence, I'll take mine back.

Although I didn't "get away," I had a glimpse of something during my vacation. Each day, there would be maybe two hours, a small window of precious time, that I was alone and not needed. And if I closed my eyes so I couldn't see the disaster my house has become, it felt like stepping into a time machine, back three years or more, to a place where decisions took into account me and that's all.

Me.

This type of time travel is bittersweet, almost dangerous in its seduction. It weakens my resolve and makes the return to present day an internal battle between my will and my capacity. This lifestyle will continue no matter my capacity to handle it, until the time comes that it's best that I take my step back.

Priorities. I am far down my own list. For two years, I've been below even the cats. That, at least, will change soon no matter what anyone thinks. Letting go of the guilt and the worrying about what other people think is one way, at least, to make a little room in my capacity to deal with life.