Musings of a mum: The crucification of pity

25th Sep 2020
Musings of a mum: The crucification of pity

This past month has been a bit of a whirlwind. We went on a holiday to Wales — which was lovely. Coming back to, a now foreign, routine with Papa Bear back at work, which meant exercise (which serves as an anchor in my life) had gone out of the window. This left my life in disarray — dramatic I know.

Baby Bears have gone back to school and although feeling hesitant at first, it was lovely to see them so happy going back. Catching up with the mums in our neighbourhood has made me feel alive and connected once again. But I do sorely miss my exercise.

It has been a bit of a crunch, as the community work that I do has restarted, and organising a seminar was stressful not because of the content or dealing with the organisers but to ensure that all the Covid-19 safety measures were in place. However, when I looked back at it just a few days later, I was incredibly proud of what the organisation had achieved.

What I have realised is that when I put in a lot of time into my activities whether it be writing or the community work, I tend to ignore the closest people in my life. I was angry at my children inhibiting my ability to work my butt off. I was angry at myself for not being able to fill them up and having to rely on others — on what I felt — should be my responsibility.

I have come to realise that my ability to care and love all my Bears seems to be hindered by my passion to work.

Working eases my mind, and it gives it a good stretch, but the richness that loves and caring for others is a different entity and I need to create space in my mind and time in my day when I am dedicated to my family. If I ever figure that out, I will award myself a Nobel Peace Prize on alleviating, what I suspect, and all dedicated caregivers struggle with.

That whole myth about work-life balance is just that, a myth. My life tends to be a see-saw, veering from one end to the other. With Papa bear thankfully salvaging the pieces of my sanity that get left on either end.

It came to a kamikaze sort of scenario when I needed to vent and cry without risking a pity fest. As I pictured myself venting (I am unashamedly a drama queen.) the thought of someone else pitying me filled me with anger.

Pity leaves no room for hope, and I find that suffocating. It takes away the faith in our strength to overcome the obstacles of life. I despise it like the biting nature of a cold winter’s breeze.

Needless to say, I didn’t vent, everybody seems to be a bit scared of me — I wrote instead. Hope you enjoyed it.

Aasiya I Versi

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