Moments of Hyper Self-Awareness

There are these moments in my life that are different than the rest. Tiny slivers of time in which I feel like another person - an older one, or a younger one, a more confident, brighter version of myself, or a shadow, invisible. There is a self-consciousness about these moments that sets them apart from the rest. I am aware, in the moment, of how unique it is, how different I feel.

Most of the time I'm just living - doing my thing, putting the kids to bed, doing laundry, reading, working, blogging, watching TV - but there are these isolated moments, not noticeable to anyone but me, they hold an extra layer of self, as if I become two selves - the one that is talking, gesturing, making appropriate facial expressions, and the one that is watching like a sports commentator, saying, oh, that's odd, why did I do that? or yes! perfect comeback, nice one, self, and making observations about how I feel as I am feeling.

Here are a few of these moments:

A few days ago Steve and I each had a meeting in the evening - mine was for Freya's school, his was for work. We called his sister to come babysit and as I explained the new school-night routine (no TV, lights out at 8) I was suddenly transported backwards in time, only now, instead of being the babysitter, I was the grown-up. I felt old, but not in a bad way, just in a way that I had never understood until that moment.

Many of us have shared this experience - taking a home pregnancy test and discovering that it is positive, confirming what you already know. Six years ago, when found out I was pregnant with Matilda, my first thought was, "Oh God, I'm an unwed teenage mother, I've become a statistic!" My future life as a deviant flashed before my eyes for what felt like forever before I remembered that I was twenty-three, and in a strong and supportive relationship, and not alone or teen aged at all.

We need a new car. One car and a family that must be driven all over the county is not going to work. So on Friday I had to go and ask for money from a bank. This used to freak me out, and for good reason, my credit is terrible. But I made a choice. I am done feeling guilty about my debt, I am doing the best that I can.

The representative sent me to the manager, because there was "nothing she could do for me." I maintained my guilt-free attitude and inner pep-talking. It went great. The manager was about my father's age, he laughed at my jokes, was warm and straight-forward. He worked with me for almost forty-five minutes trying to figure out a way to approve either Steve or I or both for a car loan, and he did it. I felt like I had won something - not through luck or by pretending to be something I'm not, but by maintaining my confidence in myself.

There's group of moms in a town where I lived for a long time. Separately they seemed like nice people, busy, like most moms, but easy enough to talk to, to be casual with. But when they were all together it became clear that I was not one of them. I can talk, I'm a talker, just ask Steve, but when I was surrounded by these other women, whose children rode in fancy strollers and whose husbands had real jobs and whose children played soccer and took ballet lessons, I felt suddenly less worthy. I would stand to one side, an observer - of them, and of myself.

Reading back over these capsules of hyper self-awareness, they seem mundane (except maybe the pregnancy one) and I don't think I described them very well, but I'm curious; do you have these? What are yours? I want to know. Tell me right now! Please.