'So, Dad, you're a writer, right?' enquired my son one morning in his thoughtful, searching voice. 'And Mum,' he paused, searching for the right word. 'Mum's nothing.'I gasped. I didn't know whether to laugh or hide. It only took him a few words, but my 4 year old son had accurately taken the measure of how I was feeling.
Of course, his revelation isn't and wasn't correct. I've worked continuously throughout his young life, but have had the good fortune to do so flexibly while still being at home. The downside to this is that my professional identity is invisible to him because my work is done in the evenings, at nap-times, or when he and his sister are out to play.
Recently, a stint of acute and serious illness has given me cause to reflect on his words. While sick, I became known more purely in terms of my relationships to the people I love: the children's mother, my husband's wife, the sick sister.
As I recover I find I'm missing that sense of me that is defined by what I do. Some of this has been restored as I start to take my place again in the domestic routines of family life. And yet, what I'm missing most is that deep personal satisfaction that comes from finishing a day and knowing I've put my efforts to something more enduring - a creative and productive end, like solving a problem, seeing a theme in a mass of data, or even writing a tricky sentence.
This is not 'identity as job description' or how much I earn, but identity that comes from creative labour or self-expression. I doubt I'll be able to do this in the form of a conventional job for a little while yet.
But the urge to work is still strong, and I'm taking small steps. This week it has been fulfilled by this creative purse project that came my way from Nicole Mallalieu Design. This project was just the right size and challenge for my waxing and waning energy. Being a freehand sewer and rule-breaker, I didn't think I'd be able to stick to the instructions. But stick to them I did, with the rewarding result of a new Japanese seersucker purse. Putting my efforts into something tangible was incredibly satisfying.
My enjoyment of the satisfactions of work will be stinted for a while still yet. I have to remind myself to take it slowly, slowly... Until then, I'll be content to be the occasional crafter, the recuperating mother, the recovering sister and, as my son has cast me, the writer's wife.
The purse looks lovely. I'm glad that it could help you back to feeling more like yourself.
ReplyDeleteKids can be a tad tactless sometimes, can't they?
Thank you Nikki. It all comes down to the perfect pattern you've crafted - brilliant, like I couldn't take a step wrong. I'll be recommending it to all my crafty friends.
ReplyDeleteTactless, but straight to the point. Perhaps I would've laughed it off if becoming a mum hadn't fractured my working life. And yet, parenting is precisely what's given me clearer insights into what I value in work - a way of working. Even sociologists can be craftsmen.
O Ruth this rings bells - I know a lot of children - and the mother is often the invisible one -
ReplyDeleteFunny, I saw a horde of mothers with babies attending a mum and bubs session at the local cinema and I with my pram, watched them go in, a flock of them, and didn't for a second associate with them at all - I forget that I am a mother - the word doesn't sit right yet with me, maybe it is too new.
There is a power in making - in making anything really - as well as, and aside from babies - I think your purse beautiful - a good omen for Chinese new year methinks - just waiting to be filled with gold coins
Wow! Good on you. I can't imagine managing to sew something so beautifully at the best of times, let alone as a recuperating mother.
ReplyDeleteMy kids have made similar comments to me, even though I work part time. But then the other night my son wanted me to put him to bed (usually dad's job) and I said 'Sorry, but I need to wash the dishes' to which he replied: 'But you do everything Mum! Why can't Dad wash the dishes for once?' I had to have a quiet snicker to myself.
I hope you are feeling much better, Ruth. Sounds like you've been incredibly courageous.
I lost my work identity 2 years ago to illness. I was very comfortable with that identity. I realise now that was just one little part of me and that I am really a multiple of personas some I know and some that only belong to others. Michelle Neuropsychologist, is now Michelle, wife, mum, painter, writer, gardener....... On reflection I was always those things but I was so wrapped up in work that I was unable to see the rest. I love your purse. My first painting post illness interruption was more akin to kindergarten art but it has given me such joy and now sits on my wall with pride. It was the realisation that even without that work persona I was still me and I could still breathe.
ReplyDeleteLove your blog :)
GG: I still don't think of myself as a mother despite navigating all the terrain! Maybe that's because I didn't do a straight swap from full-time work to full-time parenting. I'm still figuring it out...
ReplyDeleteRachel: Thank you, but it's really Nikki's perfect pattern that deserves all the credit for the way the purse turned out - all I did was add material and a few stitches here and there.
Your son sounds very observant!
Yep, feeling much better too, thank you - but not courageous in the least, just enduring, waiting and, after a rude shock, almost back to normal...
RH: Thanks, and I agree. I saw how easily this happened when I couldn't do much at all - how it all has to be reshaped and refocused.
For my part, while I don't think the illness will be enduring, it's been an opportunity - a very timely one - to stop, take stock, clarify and work out what matters and what to do next... no quick and simple answers.
Your paintings sound fascinating. Would you like to talk about them here?
Hi Ruth, if you really want I'm happy to share a couple of my paintings, I do warn you they aren't anything flash. For me it's more what they represent in the sense of leaping one of those gaping chasms in the mind (rather than the physical product) that we all have in some form. Let me know what you'd like.
ReplyDeleteI love the theme of your blog. What is precious to each of us is so different and often so surprising and so revealing of the person. Having to sit and think about what is precious and why often leads us to examine ourselves in a new way.
Hi RH. I agree, talking about an object that's precious, important, beloved can be incredibly revealing - more than I initially thought - and takes a bit of courage.
ReplyDeleteIf you'd like to do an interview about your paintings or some other object, please do send me an email and we can chat some more: ruthquibell@gmail.com