The urge to write, knowing there is nothing I care to revisit. To even pen the here and now is unnerving. Considering thoughts as just that yet acted upon, then focus lost upon what was or should have been. Once believed the safest place to let loose is on the pad, in the book. Black and white put it down, get it out and tuck it away or share as seen fit. Here I seek reprieve, escape and audience of void to consume.
Always hear "time is funny that way", somewhat just blindly agree. Time is an experience we all share; however, to generalize the perspective undermines the role time plays. Never a moment to spare for frivolity. Or so they believe, if only it could be realized the time passing while they toil away for the ultimate benefit of another. How frivolous is that?
No need to victim blame, it is not a system flaw, but this way by design. I sit and ponder on the state of things and the part I play. I do that because I have time now. Then I fume that it is again by design that no one has time to just "be". I do not scoff in the face of privilege because that is a matter of perspective. Work to change the system, and fight to help the people.
Take a moment to think about life. Some may ask, "what about life"; that is a personal choice. When told to think about life whatever comes to mind first is what you should consider. To attempt to alter that initial thought is fruitless. Whatever that first thought is, go with it. Even if it is the always present thing to do, well now is the time to scratch this thing off the list. Should it be large, start breaking it down into manageable feats. Working on us prepares us to work to help others.
Today, I must put out what I cannot write. I could go in circles for hours and get nowhere. Best place to scream.
I am lost in this life of mine. I am losing my identity at a time when I could be finding or redefining myself. Seems so cliche to not like the person in the mirror, so I actually like her, I just also feel sorry for her. It is not true that you can not miss what you never had. Even the slightest taste of something lets you know that you had been missing out. In my situation it is not so much that I am missing out, more I am slacking off. Positive spin, I know my capabilities and if there is something I want/need bad enough I can do it, so there is no need to slack. But we have to call a spade a spade.
Surface level gripe, I have time to accomplish much and of lately do very little. This daily fugue is played out near ritualistically. Manic moments of cleaning, superwoman status homemaker, novice gardener, administrative assistant, house manager and cook. Followed by days of plundering, napping, project starts and a dash of self-depreciation for not completing any of the projects. Honestly ignorance is bliss, because recognizing this yet not knowing a way out yet and continuing is mind bending. The urge to run has been so great that I started to get so concerned I honestly do not leave often because I am not certain to return.
In writing this I guess I am at the stage of finding myself. It unfortunately just does not look or feel like it does in the movies. No island getaway for weeks or a month, no escape to the mountains to muse by a fire, no monks or nuns just me in the bed a few days at a time gazing out of the window.
To the reader from a Mother's perspective, being a parent is a thankless job that never ends. Like for real never! Understand there are levels to this and certain stages require a certain amount of involvement.
It seems this is where all the training on boundaries must be put into play because I have zero interest in "actively parenting" my entire life.
I will not mother adult children
I will not mother my spouse
I will not mother my plants
I will not mother in this house.
I always love and care it is just now time to put me first. Because I do not know who this chick is or what she has going on.
A reckoning is upon us 😆. Understatement of the year, I know.
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