I’m trying to figure out what the heck is going on with my mind. (Is there ever any figuring it out, though?)
The clock is driving me crazy. It feels, quite literally.
That Damn Clock
When the kids were babies, watching the clock was the worst thing I could do. I would look at the clock to see how long I had been asleep before being awakened again to nurse. With Tristan, I would get angry seeing it had only been 15 minutes… or 30… or 50… or even 3 hours. I believed I couldn’t get enough sleep.
Meghann was born when Tristan was 19 months old and I started the same frustrating cycle, feeling my anger rising again. Being angry at a baby isn’t a proper emotion with a newborn/baby/toddler/child especially when it is 100% their innate behavior, so I reached out and asked for help.
Best Parenting Advice Ever
My experienced-in-natural-birth-and-parenting friends had The Solution.
Cover the clocks.
If I did not know how long I had slept, I could stay in the moment and be the mom I wanted to be: present and relaxed.
I’ve since shared that advice hundreds of times, knowing the benefits first-hand.
If There Were No Clocks
If we lived in the wilderness, the jungle, the desert, hundreds/thousands/millions of years ago, we would look to the sun, moon, and seasons for the passage of time. If the sky was covered with clouds, we would be guessing. Nursing moms would look into the eyes of their babies when they cried, not upward to watch the passage of time in a 24-hour day.
“Watch the baby, not the clock,” was a mantra I shared with all new parents.
Clocking the Time
My job requires a clock. I have to know the time a call starts, then look at the work timekeeper to see how long I have been talking. I have to write the time down for each call three times. While I can clock in and out when I want to, I have to “clock” in and “clock” out.
I look at my (now) blue glowing digital clock dozens of times a day for a variety of personal reasons pertaining to health and household needs.
The clock hangs heavy around my neck. Especially the digital one because it does this fluctuating weird shit I can’t explain. Sometimes it glows. Sometimes it’s 3-D. Sometimes it’s flat. Sometimes the numbers float.
I thought when my hallucinations stopped, the clock was going to chill, but it has not. Instead, it’s taken on a new design of continuous motion within its metal container.
Disconcerting doesn’t begin to explain how it feels.
I wish I could cover it. I really wish I could yank the plug and throw it away. I’ve thought about getting a new clock, but the idea of a strange resident is scarier than what I have looking at me right now.
I’ll look outside the window as much as I can.
“Confusion never stopsClosing walls and ticking clocks, gonnaCome back and take you homeI could not stop that you now know, singing”
“Clocks” – Coldplay
Navelgazing Writer 