I forced myself to do some self-analysing on Tuesday.
I’m tired. I’m worn out, not burnt out, but not my best. I spend my days with my beautiful boys and then collapse in the evenings. Since being a mummy is a full-time job, I can be excused for that. Even though I know that. Following that thought, the idea of a holiday has been slowly growing in my mind.
Those of you who have been with me for a while, know that I LARP. In fact, my last LARP was the weekend I realised that I might be pregnant, meaning it was almost two years ago. I miss it. A lot. It’s like a hole in my gut.
My LARP takes place in Wales and is just too far away for me to get back to. I’ll be honest that this fact, as much as anything else (money, my sons), has kept me away from it. But it’s still just an excuse.
The analogy I gave Dave (reproduced here without giggles, ums, ahhs, and digressions) was that I feel like I’d enjoyed horse riding for years and years before falling off and breaking my leg. After the leg healed and I was physically able to ride again, I found excuses to avoid getting back on the horse to continue riding.
That is exactly what has happened to me. I’ve been away from LARP, and, for that matter, any and every sort of activity that was my own previous to the birth of my sons, that I can’t imagine doing it again. I’m too scared to try. Writing has survived, but things like LARP, pen and paper roleplay, trips to the pub, my radio show, weekend visits to my mum/dad, day trips to Nottingham/Birmingham have all gone *poooof*. And I finally narrowed my fatigue down to missing those things. I’ve been putting off returning to those things because I’m afraid that being a mother has changed me so much that I don’t know if they’re ‘me’ any more and I’m too scared to find out.
But I need to find out. I need to get back on the horse.
That is why, after months of
gentle cajoling, I’ve been convinced to return to LARP. Not Herofest, but a new LARP, in my local area called Empire.
I have only the vaguest idea of what it’s going to be like. I have no kit. I have no IC (in character) tent. I’m not sure how I’m getting there yet. I’m not even sure of what my character name is. I just know that I am going and that Dave has made it ridiculously easy for me to do so. He’s going to have the boys. He’ll have backup either from his mum or friends in the area. I am free to just go and enjoy myself. To rediscover myself.
I love him so much for giving me this chance and I love my dear friend Len for almost bullying me into it. I love Celine for gently (very gently for her) suggesting that a holiday away from the boys really might be what I need to refresh myself and enable me to keep going. I love my mum for the injection of funds which makes this even remotely possible (I love her anyway, of course [!] but sometime I forget how much). And I love my boys for being so grown up and mature even at 15 months, to the point that I know I can leave them with their father for two nights; even if I’m nervous.
Ugh… this post got mushy! It wasn’t supposed to.
Have you guys ever put off something so long that you almost couldn’t (wouldn’t?) return to it? Have you returned to it yet, or are you still looking at the horse and shaking your head? I love hearing from you and remember, for each comment you make on posts throughout August up to September 26, your name will be put in the draw to win one of four free copies of the upcoming ebook ‘Meeting Each Other: Vicki & Lara’.