An Open Apology

I don’t often make a big deal of apologising. If I’ve done something wrong, I like to fix it. Even if I don’t or didn’t realise I’d stuffed up, I like to put things right where I can.  For a while now I’ve known that I’ll need to make an apology, see it’s been an interesting 6 months. Or more than that really.

In late 2013 I moved house, had some wisdom teeth out, had a gum infection, had a weekend of anxiety/depression meltdown (due to being sick), had some more teeth out, prepared to go overseas, got my life in order and then found out I was pregnant and didn’t go overseas. Now, I’ll make this VERY clear, I’m not apologising for being pregnant.

My little Bug as I affectionately call him (yep, he’s a boy!), was a surprise. A life changing surprise. My first trimester was the hardest time of my life. Each day was a battle to keep food down, it felt like every time I moved I vomited or at least was attacked by waves of nausea. Then there was the emotional turmoil of a surprise pregnancy. I still can’t put into words that first few months.  It’s a haze of sickness and a retreat into myself. Implosion.

Over the past six months I have had very little to give, there hasn’t been anything left over. My energy has been focussed on getting through a day and getting through my shifts at work. With already depleted physical and mental/emotional capacities, work has taken most of what I had left. For the most part, I have not had the capacity to deal with interacting with other people even on a casual basis.

The emotional side of things has been incredibly tough. To step outside your faith and belief system and “stuff up” has immense ramifications to your state of mind and faith. Add to that facing life as a single mum and the reality of bringing a child into the world in this particular situation. Then there’s the “high risk” pregnancy label thrown in as well. There’s been a lot to process. There just hasn’t been space left in my head for anything or anyone else. That’s the best way to describe it.

It hasn’t been so much a depressive episode or phase, there  are qualities of that, but more a situation of being knocked over and having to find my feet again. It’s been a tough time as I’ve been acutely aware of not being able to do as much as I usually do. Relationships and other areas of my life have suffered from neglect. My house is a mess most days and this blog is sorely neglected.

As I look forward I am so pleased to know that I have started to find my feet. Or rather my feet have planted themselves again on the rock that is higher than I. I’m so very excited about the next season of life as a mother. As much as I struggle with change there is something refreshing and enlivening about your life being turned upside down. As I look forward I’m also aware that my capacity to “be there” and present in people’s lives is going to remain slightly diminished for a while. Soon I’ll have the needs of a child to attend to and he will always come first. My capacity to give has started to be restored but it is still much restricted. There just isn’t a whole lot of room in there to add others to it.

So I’m sorry.

For being distant.

For not “being there” in general and on any special occasions I may have missed.

For being rude or impatient.

For not giving as much of myself as I usually do – whether my time or my attention.

For not being my usual self.

I’m sorry for what has been and for the coming months of not “being there”.

I think about my people often. Know that my love and affection remains unchanged. Drop me a line to tell me about your life if you like, it’s a nice distraction from baby stuff!

Love,

Sara xo

Streetlife

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A few weeks ago the weekly photo challenge was to capture the life of a street. I considered heading out into the main streets of my beloved Frankston, there’s so much to see there. Instead, I’ve captured my humble residential street. There’s my front fence to the left, next door is the drive way that leads to the Dawson’s, where I used to live. Next stop is the brick fence of a block of units, a lady and her children live in one of those units. I’m not sure if there’s one or more kids, but even from two doors down I can hear her talking very loudly (aka yelling) to her offspring.

It’s an empty street in this moment and yet it’s one that is full of life and people. Over the past six months I’ve had plenty of time to see what this humble street holds. From my couch in the lounge room I see people walking their dogs, joggers, kids on their bikes or scooters heading to the milkbar, an elderly man with his walker and jack russell go by every day, kids going and coming home from school and various other people from all walks of life. I often tell myself off for people watching from the couch, memories of my aunt and mum doing the same as I was growing up. Yet each time I see movement from the corner of my eye I can’t help but glance out to see, to wonder who they are, what they’re doing, if they’re well, to smile at the excitement of kids or wonder if that paper bag holds a few cans. It’s just too much for a self confessed people watcher to resist from the comfort of her couch!

I love our little street, quiet but full of life.