To Co-Exist

I once read a biography about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath called "Her Husband." For those of you who don't know Sylvia Plath is the author of one of the most influential books of poetry of the 20th century called "Ariel". The book was published after she committed suicide.

One of the parts of the biography that I remember the best is when Sylvia is struggling with the idea of having children. She very much wants to be a mother, it's a primal desire within her. But another desire wars with it, the need to be a poet. She worries that the two; poet (artist) and mother can't co-exist, that one will ultimately kill the other.

I know just how she feels.

I struggled for three years to conceive my beautiful little girl, I would not trade her for all the free afternoons of writing or career making acting roles the world had to offer. She holds my heart in her tiny, chubby hand. When she smiles my soul soars, when she cries my soul does too. Her triumphs are mine, her pains are too.

I am a mother, to my bone marrow.

I am also an artist.

Since Rosalind's birth I have acted twice in short plays. It was hard for me to get back into the swing, hard to coordinate Dan getting home in time for me to go to rehearsals and performances. To be honest, if I wasn't frustrated with people wasting my time before I had the baby, I was now. Each time an actor was late, or a rehearsal drawn out I'd feel my body tensing with aggravation and exhaustion. I wasn't sleeping, I hardly had time to eat, I was trying to figure out how to be a mother while also trying to figure out how to memorize lines and be relaxed and in the moment. (My acting teacher Mr. J.D. Coburn would say that "figuring it out" was my first problem. Sometimes I genuinely miss that wise, artistic man.)

It was harder work than ever. And I wasn't sure I was still cut out for it. Truth be told, I'm still not sure. I've denied the actor in me for a while now because to face it was painful. I haven't been sure if I'd ever do the things I dreamed of. Will I ever get to play Beatrice in "Much Ado About Nothing" ? Or just be in a Shakespeare play with a real professional company? Will I ever be a paid actor; not Oscar winning, not super-mega star, but a well respected Indie actress?

I don't know.

I have no idea how to balance the mother with the artist. Like Sylvia I am at a loss to know how to stretch my soul so far.

But, I am reminded of the fact that; baring her massively depressive mind set, Sylvia Plath mothered two beautiful children and wrote a masterful novel called "The Bell Jar" and a visceral, beautiful, haunting book of poetry called "Ariel". Her artist found the time in the midst of motherhood to live and even thrive.

I like to have a plan, I like to know how things are going to happen. And I have no idea how this can happen. It'll take time, that much I know. I always believed I could be artist, wife, mother. Dan believes I can.

And honestly in looking for a nice wrap up to this post I'm coming up empty. The thought of waiting until she's old enough for preschool sounds doable, but I want another child. So what then? Wait another two or three years? Who knows. I refuse to give up but I feel outside pressures making that resolve weaken.

When I stop and breathe, though, the worry lessens, the fear quiets and I have peace. But I still don't know quite where I'm going, or what it'll look like when I get there. I need someone who believes in me, outside of Dan. I need someone who's been where I am and succeeded, who has satisfaction in motherhood and art.

Until then, God help me please. God keep the mother and the artist alive in me.