finding and losing my mojo, which in this case is not an alcoholic beverage

This morning I had found my mojo, thanks to killer posts from Sara and Jodie and Stephanie-freaking-Nielson.  My project was finally finished this morning, and I was aglow with the potential of taking the rest of today and all of tomorrow off from working. I would pursue my children. I would serve selflessly. I would put away my laundry, with all the gratitude befitting a person who is as lucky as I am. For truly, I am lucky as can be.


Around lunchtime, my mojo was knocked out of me, hard as if I'd been hit by an automobile. But that's just the game of it, I suppose. That's the challenge -- to try to be all Sara/Jodie/StephanieFreakingNielson or The Mother I Am Meant to Be, even when I feel like just getting drunk and going to sleep in a closed car on a warm day.


Have I written on here about selflessness before? Ah, I see that I wrote about it but didn't finish or publish the post. I am in a Bermuda Triangle dotted by these three words: 

• selfish
• selfless
• self-seeking

I have zero sense of who I am. I know some things I like, and some things I don't, but that's the extent of what I know about myself, beyond my life experiences. This doesn't usually bother me, because I am surrounded by my kids, husband, work, blogging, family of origin, etc., and these are what I use to build a me-shaped space. I am the space bordered by all these things -- I cannot describe myself without describing my family, work, and hobbies. 

Without having a sense of self, is one selfless? Another word for selfish is "self-seeking." Aren't "selfless" and "self-seeking" the same? Both convey the idea of being without a sense of identity (for lack of a better term). The difference being that the selfless person is content, and the self-seeking person is not.


I am selfish. I am angry when my contributions aren't recognized. I am sarcastic with my children when they treat me like their servant, which is pointless since their grasp of sarcasm is tenuous to nonexistent. I feel panicked and bitter if I don't have time alone. I need to get away from the incessant neediness, yet I am angry when  my contributions aren't recognized... when the neediness itself should be enough affirmation/recognition for me. Shouldn't it?


Serving selflessly can't mean martyrdom, because who the heck wants to be a martyr? Or to be around one -- how annoying. A martyr makes other people feel badly about themselves and their contributions. To do the job right, I have to be cheerful about it, which means deriving some satisfaction from the work itself, and from contributing, even if no one else affirms/cares/notices/needs.


I enjoyed my children today. I wished for more. I enjoyed the tasks I accomplished today, even though they were as small as putting away laundry and organizing the attic. I played babies with Helena, and made her laugh with my hilarious puking sound when I got sick and had to stay home from school. She rolled her eyes at me and sighed loudly and said, "WHY ARE YOU CRYING??? GEEEZ!!" and clearly I need to display a little more compassion when dealing with her crying spells.


I also shaved my legs, so that was nice. And I trimmed my bangs, and last night I removed 90% of the excess hair from my face. I look less like a monkey, but only 5% less so I don't know what's up with that math.


Tomorrow is another new chance at serving selflessly, pursuing the children, converting to Mormonism, and all that jazz. And tomorrow night is another chance to get drunk and watch "Anchorman" after the kids go to bed. Because that's who I am: a person who likes to get drunk, watch "Anchorman," and consider converting to Mormonism because those ladies all seem happy and get to have lots of babies.


PEACE!