Today I broke down. It is painful to my ego to admit that I might be suffering from some kind of post-partum depression. But I have been a self-diagnosed "dopamine junkie" since 1999 - and I just realized that I am so Pod-focused, so depleted in energy, that I have no source of dopamine-production stimuli anymore.
The ego leads me back to thoughts of pleasure. Where are my selfish pleasures now? I have no pleasures of the body anymore, and when I even meditate too long on the lack of pleasure my only release is weeping. I weep as Phoenix cries. It is my only physical release and one of my only selfish acts these days - the mourning of my "old life," my freedoms, my mobility, my pleasures.
Ah, but there is the trap again - the backward glances, the focus on the lack. My friend Myke today reminded me that I should be creative, and not just online - but something physical, tangible. I could argue that I've just produced the most exhaustive and complete creation of my life. But he is right. It is imperative that somehow I muster enough energy and focus to be generative. Not just thinking of business/money - but artistically generative. This is critical to my soul, and to the nurturing of my Pod.
I've been worried about what effect this maternity sabbatical and shift in priorities is having on my career. I am anxious about how I will manage to return to full-time work focus mode and raise my Pod. How can my career advance if I can't take client meetings, or if I can't work overtime on innovating solutions?
I look at my tiny son, whose connection to the infinite was so reassuring when he was in my womb. I search his eyes and open my port, willing him to open up our telepathic link and send me glimpses of the future.
"How is this all supposed to work? How do I make it work? How do I find ease and balance in this newest level of responsibility and consciousness?"
He stares back. Clear grey eyes. Smiles, wiggles, looks around, distracted by the light. Pouts. Furrows tiny brows and grunts.
I weep as he watches and listens to me. The lyrics to "This Woman's Work" loop in my head, triggering fresh onslaughts of tears. . .
"I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things I should've said,
That I never said.
All the things we should've done,
That we never did.
All the things I should've given,
But I didn't."
No time for thoughts of self. Self-care limited to that which is for the sake of the Pod - keeping my energy up, keeping my milk production up, having just enough patience to respond as much as possible to his needs with gentleness, sweetness, nurturing - because that is what he deserves. No time for thoughts of romance. Fresh tears. Dark, unenlightened, sub-optimal word forms and thoughts conspire with sleep deprivation and materialize resentments for which there are no cures nor justifications. I aim to just let the thoughts pass, flow through me, letting them pass.
Dining out on memories now. The dopamine junkie in me is starved, begins to loop back to old memories, if only to squeeze out any leftover chemical reaction to soothe myself. Then I berate myself for looking back. Then I berate myself for berating myself. Then I breathe and jolt myself back into the present moment. Must be present in the moment, musn't miss a precious minute of these early days of Pod's life . . . slipping away like wax melting off a candle . . .
I rock Phoenix in my arms, he quiets, I keep crying, a spontaneous force-restart litany of offering/acknowledging abundance. . . my litany of Thank You's -
Thank you for my healthy perfect son, thank you for my health and recovery, thank you for all the love that I am given, for friends, for family. Thank you for the sentience, thank you for this life, thank you for all the challenges which are so minor in comparison to the lives of those less fortunate, thank you that I have food for myself and can provide shelter and milk for my son, thank you for all my needs which are provided for. Thank you for my son's life and purpose. Thank you for my life. Thank you for my purpose, my purpose, my purpose. . . .
My purpose is not to satisfy my ego and its to fall into its traps of comparative successes. My purpose is not to be a career oriented over achiever, or even to be acknowledged or lauded for my achievements.
My purpose is the transformation and utmost evolution of my soul and awareness, to live with optimal energetic balance to give and receive love, to transcend the traps of the ego by living simply but with maximum sentience, to use my intellect, experience, compassion, skills and interpersonal intuitions to provide for my survival and the survival of my child primarily, and for the support and betterment of my loved ones/mutual arising, secondarily.
As an individual human on this planet, in this life, this is my purpose.