Struggling. Battling. Trudging. Accepting. These are words I use to describe my life. I’d like to use words like embracing, loving, soaring, enjoying – Living.
I keep coming back to this notion that I’m not living the right life. Like the dreams I am chasing are not my own, and thus not satisfying to me. Like I tried so hard my entire life to be accepted, to be loved, to fit in, to be normal – to not be the sad little abused girl from a messed up family. And so I set off to create a not-messed-up family and have us all fit into whatever I thought that was. Problem is, somehow I don’t believe what most others believe and I don’t need what most others seem to need. My dreams have nothing to do with the latest fashion, trends, gadgets or anything. I dream of peace and joy and simplicity.
I don’t enjoy shopping and continually amassing new items. I have enough.
I don’t mind that my one pair of shoes don’t match my outfit. They are comfortable.
I don’t mind that my giant fleece sweatshirt has washed out words and can no longer be read. It keeps me warm.
I don’t mind that my hair has gone wild and out of place. It likes to be free.
I don’t live through my children. I don’t force them to excel and gain from their success. I am not them.
I don’t like football or baseball or any other sport where people put so much importance on running with a ball. I just don’t understand.
I don’t like that people idolize sports figures, movie stars, musicians as heroes and readily pay them millions of dollars, but will not put a dollar in the salvation army Santa’s cup.
I don’t like that people get bored and go hunting for entertainment. Hunt if you are hungry.
I don’t follow most popular television. I have much more entertaining thoughts in my own head.
I don’t care that I don’t make much money. I have what I need.
I don’t understand hate and cruelty and intolerance. I love everyone.
And yet I am raising my children to be a part of the world that I do not understand. If I were alone, my goals would be much different, and I would stop chasing someone else’s dream.
My dream would be to live my own life, free of judgment, free of comparisons, free of cruelty. I’d love to keep my remote job, but instead of working from this home, work from somewhere new each month. Keep moving, exploring, seeing the beautiful world. I’d love if no one depended on me, and I only depended on myself. I don’t want to be alone, like a hermit, but to experience lots of people, expand my horizons, and go home to only my own messes. I’d have very little belongings so I could travel easily. Just my laptop, my sketch book, my pencils, my music, and me in the world. Sorry Hubby, but you’re not in this dream – just me – free. No offense.
Now if I liked camping, getting wet and dirty, hunting and fishing, I could see living alone in some mountain cabin. But I would starve rather quickly since I wouldn’t be able to kill anything, and can’t even grow a proper tomato. No, I would need to work, and shop. And I’m pretty sure I couldn’t grow my own coffee or java chip ice cream, so yes, my dream is not to go all Walden-like, but just to simplify and de-stress my life. I do not enjoy rushing about with demanding schedules, having a zillion things to remember and so many to depend on me – and cry if I forget even one in a zillion. It is exhausting and I rarely get to recharge.
I feel trapped – in an underwater mortgage, a house too small for all of us in it and all of our required stuff. I’m trapped cleaning the same messes, cooking the same meals, seeing the same things, doing the same things, day after day. I’m trapped in the same cycles of moods, My soul is suffering. And yet, I love my family, and it makes me happy to take care of them, to watch them grow – but it is an empty happiness. Maybe I would still be empty in my world travels. I will never know. I jumped into a married with children life before I knew what was in my heart and soul. I would never abandon them, but I fear they will never know the real me, and I will be always be dreaming of the life I was meant to live.
I know I am good mother. I know how much I mean to them. This is not (completely) depression talking. Just a deep down feeling that I am not living the right life.
When I hike in a forest alone, or just with my dog, I can feel nature reaching out to me. I feel whole. I feel good. I feel peaceful.
When I hike in a forest with my children, I feel anxious, irritated, angry, and miserable. I can not channel that feeling when in charge of my ducklings. Yes I enjoy watching them enjoy nature, but it does not allow me to enjoy nature the same way.
I fear that my own healing and growth will be stalled until I can resolve this, and start chasing my own dreams, not the one’s that society thinks I should chase. So I fear I will be treading water, until my kids are grown, and then maybe, just maybe then, I can leave this housewife hell. And I fear that I won’t make it that long. That I’ll have a little more whiskey each day, until one day it is too much.
- Chase a dream or live it? (lifeof24hours.wordpress.com)
- Where am I going? Be/Do/Have (ready2bloom.com)