THE WEIGHT OF TWO WORLDS
Balancing Motherhood and Creative Endeavors
After digging into Edmund Morris’ trilogy about Theodore Roosevelt, I turned my attention to a book by one of my favorite biographical writers. The Bully Pulpit by Doris Kearns Goodwin is a phenomenal read, with many quotes from the storylines of the two presidencies and the glories of journalism. The deeper I read, the more I was inspired by writers at McClure Magazine publications. They influenced a grassroots campaign to stave off corruption, exposed monopoly abuses at Standard Oil and scrutinized the conduct of corporations like US Steel. What intrigued me was the writers' influence on industry and society. Issues we are still dealing with today—anti-trust, worker's rights, exposing the business practices of the wealthy—have many of their origins at the turn of the previous century.
One particular day, I was incredibly inspired by the works of Ida Tarbell, Ray Stannard Baker, and Lincoln Steffens. How marvelous it must be to write in such a way that it could really influence people and society. Their periodicals spurred the legislature to hold corporations more accountable. I wondered at that sort of power; my mind started racing with ideas. Ideas for a book, ideas for photography, and how I wanted to incorporate societal themes and weave in elements of what is happening today.
I went to pick up my kids and then rushed around to prepare to take my son to his soccer practice. During the drive, my mind is humming. I pull out my photo and record a voice memo about article ideas. I felt good and alive even as the kids were squabbling and bickering throughout my recording. It did not matter because I was feeling so inspired. Then, at the end of the night, during the dark hours, as I drove my son back home, he commented that I had forgotten something of his. I almost lost it in the car. The whole day, I felt so inspired, and for the briefest of moments, I imagined my life as a writer, a creator, and not the driver, the nurse, the chef, and the comforter. I felt what I was capable of, and my domestic demands finally caught up to me, and I just cried.
We arrived home, and I told my husband I needed some space. Later in the evening, I flew into a fury. Not at anyone, but just at the weight of the restraint I felt. I love being a mother. And yet, even as independent as my children are, motherhood takes up the bulk of my energy. But I also carry this intense desire for a purpose outside my role as a mother. Sometimes, the pressure of both hit me hard, and I spiral in one of two directions. I shout and weep about how much different my life would be if I did not have to be responsible for a household and I could go out into the world and really give writing everything I had. Or I convince myself that I should not bother with a purpose or a goal and should focus on my home life. The latter seems so easy, but I know that road would not be a happy one. Instead, I am stuck under the weight of what could have been and what I need to do.
My story is nothing new to those women who are proud of who they are but chaff under societal limitations. I want to raise two wonderful, generous human beings, but I also want to change the world. I want to leave a legacy beyond my children. To some, I am demanding too much. Others might believe I am not demanding enough. All I know is I have been made to be creative and have a fire in my belly to have an impact beyond my threshold. Will I achieve my goal? I do not know. All I can do is write daily, faithfully care for my children, and hope it will all work out.
