A new job, plus festive frenzy, has our columnist wishing for just one hour to herself.
ELVES, what elves? All I want for Christmas is … HELP!
This whole new job malarkey has been amazing and crazy nutty all at the same time. It is only when life becomes full to the bursting brim that we finally have to acknowledge our glaring weaknesses and relinquish control over that-which-we- cannot-possibly-do, given the whole time issue.
I thought of writing a wish list to old man Chronos this year instead of Papa Noelle, asking for a magic hour hidden between finishing up work and chores for the day and before I climbed into bed.
One hour to disappear into, to read a book with a cup of tea, watch an episode of Spooks on the idiot box, bake, ice and eat a fairy cupcake, or just stare into a candle chanting om shanti with a glass (or two) of pinot.
The last time I had a major life change and focus was when the Little Man popped out into the world. This time it’s me finding my feet again and going back into the world in a new role.
I suppose that is true of any mum really, who’s had some time off. Whether you dabbled part-time or downsized the work load, the fact remains the same: when you shift gears back into full-time mode, your brain explodes like a proverbial frog in a blender.
I often find myself staring blankly at a piece of paper knowing that I must write a list of some sort to execute the next day or that evening. Funny thing is, I can’t for the life of me remember what the hell I am supposed to write down and remember, so I don’t forget!
The part of the brain that was a well-oiled and worked muscle, the one that allowed you to glide into auto mode and fudge your way through the day, prepared or not, turns quickly to a rusted, barnacle-encrusted faucet that is a bugger to loosen.
Then, when you do manage to turn the darn thing, all that rust and oxidised murky gloop sputters out and you sit watching in horror as you try to find a glimpse of gold that will prove your “spark” still exists.
Well it’s been a couple of weeks since my new job started and I am quite sure (as I write, I am actually lighting candles and praying to all the gods and their brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts and second cousins) that things will fall into place.
It’s just a matter of time and flexing that muscle, right? Or, dare I share my fears that some of us are just not cut out to be so blimming organised and will always struggle with the juggle?
It’s been so long since I exercised this muscle that I am not sure if I ever had it in the first place.
Oh, and the guilt. The awful crushing despair I feel at the end of the day when I realise that the Little Man has fallen asleep curled up in my arms and I think of all the things I had wanted to do with him before moon time.
Then come those awful promises you make to yourself, the ones that whisper hopes about how to make time up and what to do tomorrow.
Tomorrow dawns and with it comes the whirring of the hamster wheel .
Have you ever had that moment, when the wheel is spinning so fast you cannot see the hamster and wonder if it’s in there at all?
I guess the massive GUILT is a good enough reason to kick your own butt hard enough to engage any tool, person, procedure or tactic to stop the spiral.
This is where I tell you that I hero-worship my good friends and their super powers in showing me how to deal with “all that I am crap at”.
Starting from scratch again is possibly the hardest thing to do, but it’s also the most exciting.
Fail as I do, day in and day out, to perform better at my tasks and priorities within my VERY limited powers, perhaps the expertise of those close to me is working its way under my skin.
I am pretty sure that after the Christmas chaos is over, I will wake up on Boxing day a totally new person. (Read hysteria and denial!)
So maybe I will write that letter to the old fart with the curly white beard and tragic costume and ask him for some new brain cells, a miracle cure for my scattiness and a magic potion to slow down time so I can catch some extra sleep.
Oh, and Santa baby, make sure you give my friends a good surprise; they deserve it after all they’ve helped me with this year!
Merry Christmas everyone!
> Asha Gill put her globetrotting life on hold to focus on the little man in her life and gain a singular perspective on the world.