Grateful for Ordinary

Late last year I picked up the habit of morning journaling again.  I have done this on and off for the last fifteen years or so.  I have my paper journals which I fill with thoughts and ideas and bits of wisdom that resonate.  These are left out where anyone can read them and I have no problem with this.  In fact, I hope my children take an interest one day.  Then I have the journal I keep on my laptop on a Word document, this is to capture my inner thoughts and anxieties.  I write these to help understand myself better.  They have helped me through dark moments and helped me reflect when I can’t make sense of my feelings.  I am happy to delete these at the end of the year or even when I finish writing that morning.

I was digital journaling this morning and it brought back some powerful memories of journaling when I was expecting Baby.  I remembered how absolutely miserable I was at the time.  Both from the nausea of pregnancy and working in a really boring and uninspiring job at the time.  I remember feeling like I could not lift myself out of the hole I was in.  It felt like such hard work to get up each day, to get started.  I would sit at my computer at work, trying not to cry or just sit with my head in my hands.

I had a similar, but much worse experience after Gorgeous was born.  He was a beautiful and happy baby, placid and easy going.  Yet I didn’t want to care for him.  I had three children under five and suddenly I didn’t want to look after them.  I didn’t want to do anything.  Looking back, that is what I find so terrifying, I was not sad, or down or miserable.  I didn’t care, I didn’t feel anything at all.  I thank Allah (SWT) that the feeling, or lack of,  lifted after about three months, but in that time, every day was an uphill struggle and I could see no way out of it.

This morning I wrote: “I feel inspired to write, to move, to go about my daily work, it is a good feeling.” It is a good feeling, one we take for granted.  To be normal, to feel normally, to have the motivation to get up and start our day.  But we are not even aware of it until we lose it.

I have plenty to deal with at the moment: stroppy teenagers, work stress, a killer to-do list, little ones with chicken pox, but I can deal with them one at a time. I am well enough and I want to.

So this morning, I have my chores to do: ironing uniforms, the last of the laundry, cleaning the house, cooking for the next few days.  But I feel like celebrating normal.  I want to enjoy the ordinariness of the day, because there are much worse things to be and feel like than ordinary. 

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