All week, I’ve had images of a circus woman playing in my mind. I feel like a trapeze artist, tightrope walker and the woman who gets sawed in half all rolled into one.
I wake up in the morning, usually around 5, to feed my sweet boy, Charlie. I take a nap until about 6:30, get ready for work and then I’m off to perform my magic tricks at great heights until we all go to bed and wait for it to start again the next morning.
I keep thinking that it will get easier or that I’ll somehow get better at moving from responsibilities at home to work to home to work, but this past week was a toughie.
Program running and researching and letter of support getting and nursing and walking in endless circles around the neighborhood trying to get Charlie to sleep and email writing and dinner preparing and grocery shopping and baby burping and changing and writing and laundry doing…
What woman doesn’t spend her time feeling like she’s flying through the air at great heights hoping to catch the next ring and not fall into the darkness below?
That being said, as I’m writing this, I am also realizing just how fortunate I am to have this great circus of a life. I have a job I enjoy, even if I’ve spent the last few days wanting to pull the covers over my head. I have a wonderful family, which has recently expanded. I have a supportive circle of friends who cheer each other on as we all make our way.
As I face tomorrow, I know that the heights will surely become less frightening, and I’ll enjoy my tightrope walking week. Because, really, I wouldn’t want to spend my life on the ground when I can spend it in the air with all this magic.