For the longest time in my life, I’ve lived life in the fast lane. There was never a dull moment, so to say, and I kept myself consciously engaged in so many things that left so little time for me to be alone. I was a visitor in my own home, I loved being out so much then! The Guy and I were the ones making plans with friends, for movies, dinners, late nights… We were society’s ‘it’ couple, at some point I think.
But in the last two years, it’s been a different story. I’ve learnt to slow down, breathe in, exhale, and live life at my own pace. My new pace. Because the life in the fast lane was also a pace I’d set for myself.
This new life that I’m living at breathable speed is probably the stuff that would classify it as boring. And by my own admission, it’s the kind of life I hadn’t imagined I’d be happy living. Yes, it’s taken some getting-used-to, but now that I know that this space I’m inhabiting, and the way I’m doing it, it’s where I am meant to be right now, I feel so much at peace. I no longer want to be at ten places at the same time, I’m okay saying no to doing things I don’t want to do, I’m okay, in fact, doing nothing. To me, it’s the most evolved I have been at enjoying my personal space.
Some of you who’ve followed my blog in my hey days might remember my tales of partying, dressing up, and partying some more, of ‘living it up’, travelling, burning the midnight oil when it came to work. Now, I cuddle my baby and hit the bed at 10pm, wake up to his smile and the sweetest ‘Mamma’ ever said, and just go about my day doing things as they come. Yes, there are days when the baby work is just too much, and getting to office is so much hard labour, and there’s the mad morning rush to do all the chores that need to be done before I step out for work. Perhaps, those days make me cherish even more the ‘doing nothing’ — periods of quiet and calm, when I can just sit and watch my son toddle away, busy at his ingenuous games, chasing lizards, running after his ping pong balls, pushing his fruit cart around, and hold him in a tight hug when he remembers in the middle of all his playing, that he needs to smell and feel the warmth of mamma. Pray, tell me, why would I want to do anything else?
Earlier, I would be loathe to spend a Sunday just being home. Yesterday, I revelled in the feeling. I curled up on our lazy boy, and watched Hindi films on the TV from middle to end, and that’s it! No movie outing, coffee, dinner, nothing even remotely interesting.
I understand that this transition is everything to do with having a baby. But I’ve seen unhappy parents, mothers who feel too tied down, restrained, bored with their lives, for whom it’s a half-hearted choice. I’m just thankful I’m not in their shoes. Probably because we’ve been there, done that, there’s more reason to enjoy this and now. But I also think that this isn’t just about having a baby. I think I’m just happy I know how to be happy without attaching it to a hundred things outside of me.
There are people who would like me to believe I’m losing the plot, that I must get back to a ‘normal’ life now that my son is 1.5 years old. To them I want to say: