My thoughts today are way too "what the ?!#*" so go check out "Raising Chickens In The City" for fun and interest.
I tried this last week, and still nothing, but a good friend shed a little light on things. She says, "Expressing your milk is just another way of expressing yourself." I do feel drained. It's one of the cruel ironies that what you most love and cherish can still knock you on your ass. Maybe I only need a long nap, full of REM and corner of the mouth drool, or maybe something like coffee in the morning and wine before bed. I can't seem to express much more than milk. No writing. No deep thoughts. No idea what I want... not "what I want for breakfast," but the big "What I Want."
I'm really happy as mom, but I am not convinced I am very good at it. I'm really happy in California, but I am not convinced it's where we can stay. Keeping Chicken Blog has been fulfilling, but I think I may be getting a little dull, self censoring, self conscious in a naked, public way. I still want chickens, and a place to sew. I want a garden and time to see flowers and children grow. I also want to have a deeper sense of my own value, without depending on anyone or anything to affirm my worth.
Geoff has had to work a lot, and focus, and agonize over details, and it's mostly over now, so he can move on, but I think I don't know how to transition and breath that "all done" sigh of relief. It could be because I am never "all done." It's hard to know when I have done the job right, or good enough. There's nothing in my contract about a bonus or vacation or how indispensable I am to the company; this contradicts my thought about not wanting to depend on "anyone or anything to affirm my worth... " Actually this whole mess is full of contrary thoughts, deep thoughts, random thoughts.
If I wait too long to nurse the baby, my breasts swell, get heavy and tender. They begin to leak, and then they spray milk. It's uncomfortable and messy. It's too much for the baby. It's not a very good thing to have happen in public. I think my head is full of unexpressed stuff that is sloppily spraying all over the page and making a big mess that should not be seen in public. One more thing: It is a relief to get it out ... I just need to find a good way to express it all.