The Observer

Ok, just so you know, I'm about to get all instrospective on you. You were warned. Here we go.

When I was a kid, I was definitely a day dreamer.  My mom always teased me that I was always off in my own little world. Lost in thought. Who knows where.

Not a whole lot changed in adulthood, although my day dreams changed from imagining I was a mermaid to pondering the complexities and idiosyncrasies of the human condition. (Mermaid phase was way awesomer by the way).  Along with this tendancy comes something I've considered less desirable.  I'm so skilled at exiting the real world to roam the isles of the abstract, that sometimes I've had trouble connecting to reality.

At times it felt like I lived in a bubble. Constantly bumping into and interacting with life, but kept from really connecting with it by something thin and invisible.  Watching people and events pass by me like a movie, never quite able to emotionally engage them as I'd like.  Sometimes when something big happened (good or bad) I'd have to talk myself into the emotions I should be feeling. ("This is really good, be excited." or "This is really sad, feel sad.") With more or less success.  It's made it hard for me to be a truly empathetic person.  How can I imagine what someone else is feeling if I can hardly feel the right things myself?

Which is why God in His great and merciful wisdom made me a wife and a mother, even though I never felt passionate about becoming either.  My kids especially have sliced through my bubble like nothing else could.  As a mom I've felt emotions at extremes I didn't know existed.  The gut squeezing, adoring affection.  The fist clenching frustration. Love, fear, anger, joy, laughter,empathy. All exploding my sepia toned world into glorious multicolor.

I can't even say I knew it happened. It was such a whirlwind, entering into parenthood. Hardly time to think about the changes swirling around you and inside you.  It wasn't until a few months ago that I realized the difference.  The frustrating disconnect, the hazy connection I seemed to sometimes have with reality, were suddenly memories. I can't remember the last time I stood in the shower thinking about how weird existence is and struggling to feel that it's all real.  I guess I've been too busy. Too busy waking up at the sound of my daughter's feet sneaking into our room at night, hoping to be pulled up into bed with mom and dad.  Too busy kissing soft little cheeks and having dance parties before bath time. Too busy reading stories and singing bedtime songs with two soft little heads snuggled beneath my chin.

This more than any other thing has made me a better friend, nurse, person.  Helped me find a confidence I didn't have before.  Forcing me out of my own head to discover that I can connect to the real world, maybe even have an impact on it.  Growing up I thought I would be an adventurer, living in a remote grass hut helping the poor.  But God knew that what I really needed to be was a mother.  Because before that happened, I wasn't present enough to help anyone.