Every day, I have a vast number of thoughts that will occupy my mind long enough to enter its conscious sphere, craving articulation, desiring to mulled over and mused upon. But, every day, before I open my mouth, or put my fingers to the keys of my keyboard, I will censor myself, withhold, get cold feet- rounding them up, fencing them in and laying them to rest in their rightful place, in my head- unvoiced, scolding myself for even entertaining the idea !
I am, after all, far from anonymous. I lost my anonymity the day I had my first child.
In becoming 'mother', more than any other role, I was implicitly accepting to prioritise that role above any other, to be the kind of mother my children could be proud of, the kind that is good, reliable, stable, sensible and always dignified.
So, whilst sometimes I do feel muzzled, even suffocated by my voluntary censorship, I still, occasionally, allow myself momentary freedom in my safe places which I have to say, can be very therapeutic.
But for now, my head is brimming with . ... ..... .. stuff.
Ah, the things we do for our children.
