Light at the end of the tunnel

‘Why don’t you just have a rest?’ says Unhusband. It’s 8.30; the kids are in bed (finally) and I’m off to the allotment. Unhusband is probably right. I’d be better off going to bed myself, or at least having a bath and a glass of wine.

I’m tired. Dog-tired. Knackered, exhasuted, blurry eyed, headachingly tired. Sometimes I wonder where tiredness ends and PND begins. Sometimes it feels like my life is one big cycle of lactation and school runs, punctuated by picking up dirty clothes, emptying the dishwasher and getting up through the night. Unhusband and I haven’t had a break in 6 and half years. The only restaurants we visit are the ones where you get a free packet of crayons on arrival.  I’m tired and just a little bit sad that the person who could make all the difference, doesn’t.

So why am I going to the allotment? Because there are slugs to slay, strawberries to pick, beans to weed, leeks to transplant. Well, partly. But I’m also going because in the evening the allotment is the one place I can be me, as opposed to just Mummeeeeee. I love my kids immeasurably and I also love taking them to the allotment.  But sometimes I need space.

Four months ago I planted an olive stone. This week it emerged from the soil, like a butterfly from a cocoon, spreading out two new leaves. I am surprised at how happy this makes me feel. It still amazes me how the driest old seed can turn into something strong and beautiful and filled with potential. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

ps. I’m fine.

About Becky Dickinson

Mum of three. Writer, blogger, grower. Trying to keep my head above the compost heap.

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Comments

  1. Becky, although there are no children at home I – and I guess so many others – identify with that tiredness. The world sits heavy on so many shoulders these days it seems; and I agree that the allotment in the evenings can be such a place of calm, slowing down, unwinding tension. I love the blackbirds and robins coming to see me there. No traffic, no phones or computer screens, no TV or radio – just some sounds of nature. There are still demands – those weeds, water to lug about in cans, compost heap to turn … but you can choose what to respond to, and I find that peace and the release so precious that I simply have to go there when I get home again at the end of each week. Even the garden at the house doesn’t provide the same sense of leaving the worldly demands behind.

    We have to count ourselves lucky to have such a place and to be able to revel in the simplicity of a germinated seed, a pollinated flower, a slow worm in the compost heap…
    Blue Skies
    TM

    • very true – I know waiting lists are still very long, so count myself lucky to have an allotment. It’s a sanctuary sometimes!

  2. I too feel tired to my bones, in fact I feel tired in my bones. I wonder if this weather has infected my soul and my days are leaving me beyond exhausted. Too tired to sleep. We all need space to grow, just like that seed

  3. Lovely that you can find some peace and find yourself at the allotment.
    PS. Hope the slugs are getting annihilated 😉

  4. … And my own dad blog largely ground to a halt in part because I unloaded so much grief and disappointment that came to the surface after we had kids. Most of the last few dozen posts were like open cutting exercises into the interwebs…

    So anyway good luck with the weeding!

  5. Yes. That and that.

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