I was in bed watching the Hulu show “Little Fires Everywhere”, and in it, one of the main characters, an artist played by Kerry Washington, regularly smokes a pipeful of weed as she makes her art.
Watching her do her thing the other night filled me with a mix of nostalgia and envy.
I remember when I used to smoke weed. It feels like a lifetime ago (even though it’s only been eight months).
I loved to set a night aside on a Wednesday or Thursday to put on some indie music, roll a joint, smoke 2-3 puffs on my balcony and then enter back into the living room reborn.
Sometimes I’d write something, a journal entry, a rough essay, or just whatever ideas came to mind. Sometimes I’d dance by myself or sing, indulging in the music in a way that comes more easily with the help of T.H.C.
And after maybe an hour of that, I would just lie in bed and watch some mindless and funny TV show like “Workin Mom’s.”
And then I’d go to sleep and wake up feeling fine.
It was my “me time”, a chance to escape my own mind and think a bit differently about the world for a few hours. It wasn’t always life changing or deep or productive in anyway, but at the very least, it was relaxing.
For what feels like forever now, however, I haven’t been able to do that. I haven’t been able to have a night just like this.
There’s a little being I need to make sure is safe, living in my body. And therefore, I need to be careful about what I consume.
Ever since I found out I was pregnant in May, spring into summer, summer into fall, fall into winter, I’ve been sober, no mild-altering substances for me.
And I miss it.
That said, I know it’s not really about that. It’s not about actually being high. Because I don’t think that changes so much, in the end. I’ve been finding other ways to relax here and there, and pregnancy has been it’s own trip in many ways.
What it is about though is having my body back. It’s about having the ability to make decisions for myself about what I want to put into it. It’s about freedom and time that’s truly for myself. To do what I please and what I want and what makes me happy. Without needing to consider others.
Just like Kerry Washington’s character seems to be doing. It’s like she really doesn’t have to give a f*ck about anyone but herself for awhile. I want that too.
And I know what you’re thinking. The pregnancy is almost over, hang in there!
But is that true? While breast feeding, I certainly won’t have my body back and then Flo wants to have two kids and I do too, theoretically. So then that’s another nine months. Boom.
And then there’s the fact that having your physical body back is only part of the story.
Washington’s character is also a mother, of a teenager. So I also wonder if her carefree, don’t-give-a-f*ck attitude I see on the screen is really represents the truth within her.
I wonder if as a mother you can ever truly fully be in a state of having yourself back.
As a mother, even if you’re not breastfeeding or pregnant, theres always going to be someone there who you love more than anything else, that you feel responsible for because you’re the one who put them into this world.
So even in your most intense state of escape and “me time”, you will still feel responsible. You always have to be ready. On call. Because what if they need you?
Maybe you never really truly get back that freedom.
There’s a part of me that feels very selfish and short-sighted to write this, about wanting to smoke a joint. To care so much.
But that’s just how I feel right now. I miss my old self and I want to be my own person again.
I’m tempted to end this email, as I pretty much always do, telling you that despite all these feelings, I’m still grateful and I wouldn’t have it any other way — and it would be true, I am and I wouldn’t.
But we don’t always need to end on a high note when things feel difficult. We don’t always have to soothe our audience, whether its made up thousands of people or just the one person in front of us. We can sometimes just end the story here.
Sarah,
I have really appreciated everything you've written so far about the ups and downs of pregnancy. I appreciate your honesty and it's so important to diversify/widen/show the expansiveness of the experience. I am a midwife, actually, so believe me, you are not alone and yet, many women/birthing people think they are alone in the sentiment of pregnancy being a huge physical and emotional sacrifice. It is not beautiful all the time, or comfortable. There are a lot of gains, but also losses, for sure.
I personally birthed three babies, who are now teens. My youngest just got her period yesterday. The cycle continues. As far as how long it is before we feel like we truly can get back to ourselves, the verdict is still out for me. On the plus side, I consider these humans people I enjoy spending time with and they have become a part of my life that feels like an authentic part of myself. So, it's not like I'm _not _ myself. But I definitely would like more time and choice if I could get it. For example, as I ponder what it would take to truly and actually have an open relationship (a part of me that I would like to pursue) I frequently ask myself if it's even possible as long as I have kids at home. Might not be, actually, for me. My partner and I are so committed to sharing the load of home and parenting, and there is just such a dang load. I don't want to not do my part. And also I do other things, like run a lot and study a third language, and work. So...adding dates and close time with another human or humans---when I barely get that time with the one I have-- seems pretty out of reach, and difficult unless I'm willing to give some other things up. Or the kids get older. Or I find the perfect sweet person/people who want exactly what I have to offer in the limited times I have to offer it. But that's the trick right there, deciding which parts of the "you" you value the most. Leaning into them. And staying open to finding the right fit of things. Take your time. You will do it. You already are. I'll miss you while you are on maternity leave, but I am so glad you are taking the time!
I relate to this so much! I found the transition so difficult, but ultimately so rewarding when I finally got to the other side of who I was and who I became through motherhood. I wish someone had told me in that first year.. ‘you will feel like you again! But even better!’