Saturday, August 6, 2011

A muddled mess

I can not get my thought out. I want to scream it but each time I start to type and try to figure out what it really is, the words suck. My feeble attempts to put words together fall apart. I'm frustrated. Being a SAHM isn't something I imagined being. I imagined being home with my kids but having something of my own to do on a regular basis.

I thought that by the age of 33 I'd have a better idea of what makes me happy. But I am still just a girl trying to make sense of life. And I get sick and tired of reading things that tell me to follow my dreams, live my passion, if I'm not happy I should just change it. It's not that easy. (And for many others, it is impossible because they can barely keep food on their table.)

But that is where this foggy brain stops. Eager for a few answers. Hoping desperately that just once, the work I do to get my gray matter to function better doesn't always have to have the "one step back". That the times I feel like I got somewhere, managed to get a bit more of a handle on my dysthymia, don't have to be a memory.

I want to be able to be more present in each and every moment but it is hard because I am constantly thinking of what needs to get done next, or where I need to clean when the opportunity arises. I hate it that I check my watch while I am playing with my daughter to see how long I've been doing it for, rather than just doing it.

How often I am reminded of growth being an erratic "two steps forward, one step back" in so many ways. It happens with my kids and it happens with my emotional state. But when it is the latter I get pissed off because I hate being in this place, feeling like I can never get my steps quite big enough to get out of the mud.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I would love, love, LOVE to hear from you!