Lately I have been feeling stagnant, wishing something exciting and new - something different would happen. How greedy of me right? To want all this excitement in my life, when I should be glad that, technically I ‘have it all’?Maybe it’s everything around me that keeps making me feel like I am never going to be good enough, or that I’ve not accomplished much more than a fraction of what I was supposed to by now. It’s the unreasonable expectations laid early on, coupled with my own expectations – which, may or may not be in direct contradiction to what is expected of me. It’s a very confusing situation to be in.
This is a very ‘woe-is-me’ piece I guess. I should warn you of that, if you didn’t already catch the drift.
Perhaps it’s the fact that life has been kicking my arse quite a bit lately? The kind of change that was unexpected include a broken sink, followed quickly by a broken counter (thanks cheap-o laminate and form board). Oh yes, that happened before Christmas, and it’s now nearly April. Unexpected increase in bills have meant living even more paycheck to paycheck…it’s enough to drive a woman to drink. Except, you know, she can’t afford it? Bills I really shouldn’t have to pay have hit the court systems, and now I’m looking to pay for the hospital stay that killed my mother, instead of making her better.
Other issues have meant less time to myself; less time to devote to writing, which is what I truly dream of. Imagine being able to do what one loves full-time?! I guess the bitter bitch inside of me says must be nice for those who have lean-in power with the parents, a decent supply of money, etc., etc.
I have never been one to take risks. It is physically impossible for me to take risks that involve the life I’ve carefully crafted for myself. The home I’ve been dreaming of, despite its broken sinks (oh yes, forgot to mention the shoddy workmanship means, if one sink breaks, the other follows because they’re attached), and a soon-to-be-gaping hole on the kitchen floor, is the only thing that I have that is mine. And I hold on to it with clamp-like intensity. I refuse to give up on it, because it is what I have worked for. It may not be the culmination of my dreams, but, I guess if it took 30 years to get my very own home, without leaning on anyone else except my good credit and a bank that will continue to fleece me for the next 13 years, then, by god, I did it. Next…
Again, I’m hyperventilating. Because there’s more I want. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s a niggling thought, a little something that says, you can be happy once again. I can’t see what it is, but it’s forming, and I’m starting to feel the symptoms of a change coming. Perhaps, I shall finally birth the book that’s been in breech all these years [I only have five thousand of them written (in my head)].
Perhaps I’ll be doing what I truly love, in a place that I love, to give me fresh perspective and inspiration. Perhaps I’ll become a sailor, and sluice through the gorgeous greens and blues of the Caribbean, enjoying what I miss every day despite living surrounded by it. Whatever the dream that is deciding to manifest itself, I really should be patient. I cannot help but feel irrationally antsy however. I want to hurry it, but like all other major dreams, I have to wait. Because it is forming itself and by the time it finally gets here, I’ll be ready.
In the meantime, a pep talk shared with the world can’t hurt, can it? In the meantime, it’s time to get out of the house, find people to talk to, find inspiration. Or maybe some choose to lie in bed and dream…whatever route you choose, I hope change is pleasant, and that it is a wonderful surprise. Just want I need.
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