One of the hardest things I’ve dealt with since becoming a mother is the feeling of being trapped.
I go through very long periods of insomnia and, during them, all I want to do is run around and be social or eat pounds of junk food and write. Unfortunately both of these are difficult if you have sleeping children. You can’t leave – not for a party, not for snacks, not for an inspiring walk. You’re just….stuck. I don’t think I can even describe the anxiety this causes me at times.
To be fair, I also do things like drink RedBull at 9pm and then vibrate at a high frequency so, y’know, kind of self-inflicted. Occasionally. And I think I was born with a pretty severe case of the FOMO. I operate somewhere in between “ants in my pants” and “disco cabin fever”, neither of which work very well when you’re a (good and not the abandoning type) mother. I’m screaming “I WANT TO DO ALL OF THE THINGS” on the inside, while sitting on my floor watching cheesy indie movies on Netflix.
Until my spawn are old enough to fend for themselves, I guess I’ll be doing jumping jacks in my living room when the crazy mood strikes. Either that or I’ll win the lottery and hire Mary Poppins.