I’m sat in a hotel room. It’s quiet. No kids climbing on me or jumping on the bed. No little voices or hands close.

Part of me misses them. I’ve never done this before. By the time I share it, I’ll be back home, in the beautiful and overwhelming chaos of parenting; of my messy, gorgeous life, where sometimes I crave the opportunity to have some space. Yet, when I get it, I miss them.

Why?

Does it make me a bad mother? No. It makes me human. A wonderful blend of contradictions that are ever heightened by my neurospicy brain.

The quiet gives me time to think, and cry, and scream into the void as I shower alone. The quiet offers me solace and space to remember that while motherhood is a core part of my identity right now, this season of my life is a season – my children will always be my children; but they will grow and needs will change, and I can be more than just one kind of human.

I can be multifaceted and embrace the fact that there is no one thing I want to choose; but rather than I am a human who brings joy and finds gratitude in the various aspects of parenting and life around our children; just as much as writing, photography, food (to an extent) and crafting brings. I can read and listen again and again to the importance of narrowing down the people I want to connect with; but truly, it’s all to fit into a box that I have to squash and distort myself to do.

I read once that to be neurospicy is to be a star and asked to fit into a small square box – the only option is to cut of each of the points, but in doing so, we cut of the bits that make us special; that make us, us. It is not only a disservice to ourselves to do this, but to all the others watching us too.

The power of these quiet moments reinforces that for me.

It has reminded me, that though there are days where I can’t wait for bedtime, or some air, or naps and music in my ears, there are more than those moments that exist – and choosing to define our experiences with the good, without negating the hard ones, begins to rewire our brains and remind us of the power of priorities. By prioritising the memories of joy; I cultivate more.

What does quiet mean for you?

I invite you to spend a minute, if you can spare one; and notice what’s around right now. Notice the noise or quiet; and what it means for you. Wherever you are at; you are enough.

Thanks for reading x

Rohana