My Rotting Brain

It is generally not okay to admit this because it makes people uncomfortable but I’m going to do it because hey, maybe there are others like me out there? So here it is: Lately, I find I am extraordinarily worried about what other people think of me. I think it is because I spend so much time with just Finny that I’m nervous that I’m forgetting how to interact properly and tactfully with other adults. I find myself having adult conversations and then over-analyzing them with thoughts like, “Was that offensive? Was that a weird thing to say? Do I sound like a moron?”


It’s dangerous to spend too much time by yourself or with someone who can’t talk or form advanced thoughts. Don’t get me wrong, I love more than anything in the whole world the time I get with my snuggly, lovely, smiley Finny. But I sometimes worry that while full-time motherhood is growing my heart, it also may be rotting my brain. And this line of thinking always leads me to wonder what it is I’m supposed to do with my life. I think this is why I love reading memoir and personal essays so much right now. I want to know what decisions other people make for their lives and how it serves them and would they do it again the same way. I want to ask working, writing moms how they do it. How do you find the discipline and time to write? How do you find the courage to publish? How do you get over the guilt of not making any money? How do you figure out how to make money? How do you do all this and still get plenty of sleep and still make Chicken Cacciatore in the Crockpot and still put together a fabulous scrapbook for your son and still once in a while clean the kitchen floor and learn how to landscape your garden and send a letter to HGTV to come design your living room and kitchen and sun porch? How do you do all this and still manage to sit on the back deck with a cup of coffee on a sunny day and read a book? Help me out here, Moms, because I’m having a hard time figuring out how to do it all and so most of the time I am so overwhelmed by the thought of doing it all that I just sit on the couch and eat thin mints. Then, when Finny gets up, I think, “Up so soon?” And I also think, “Thank God, I have to stop thinking about myself now and pour some juice and quack like a duck and watch Finny put everything he can find into the fish pitcher in the kitchen cabinet.”

It’s dangerous to admit that you feel a little self-conscious and inadequate sometimes, but maybe, just maybe someone else will read it and say, “Me too!” And if not, well then, it felt good to write it for myself because sometimes writing is the best and only thing I can do to exhale and start to think maybe I’m just a human being having a human moment and there’s nothing too terribly weird or offensive or wrong with me after all.