Every day I look for my joy and I find it in rare glimpses of children’s laughter, of sunshine, the spring air on my skin. I find these momentary bits of happiness, but mostly I just feel like I am grasping at straws. Watching the sand fall through my fingertips. The time slips by and I just stand here and watch my life drift on like some sort of bystander. I do not know when I gave up the fight.
Gave up on the fact that I had some sort of control over my own destiny. My head is stuck in the clouds. What could have been, what should have been, versus what is? My ideal life competing with the one I have. I do not even know what my ideal life it. I just know that this huge sense of dysphoria comes from the clash between the two.
If I have given up, what does that mean? Is life over at 36? Did I miss it? How can you miss a life you never were even part of? Part of me gets angry. Angry at myself for not doing this right. Not “doing life.” I used to think there was some sort of pressure placed on me to be this pinterest perfect mom and woman, but there is not. And I know that. It is just an excuse. I do not even put pressure on myself. I just try to run away. Run away from what? The inevitable? Mortality? Maybe I should be running toward it. I do not know.
I am like a broken record. Trying to fix something. I am not even sure it is broken or how it got that way or how to fix it.
Sometimes I am happy here. I have a good job, a big house, and so many nice things. A good family. People who love me. People who support me. And sometimes I am happy here. Everything in its place. Content. But mostly I just want to burn it all down. Get rid of it all, these possessions that are drowning me and move far, far away. I do not know what that will get me. Moving away, I will just be bringing all this baggage right along with me.
Somehow, I want to teach my kids how to live a simple life. That things are not important, that relationships are more important than things. That things and not people are meant to be used and that people, not things are meant to be loved. Maybe that is the thing. I know I am failing at that myself so there is no way I can teach anyone else to do what I say and not as I do.
Part of it is guilt maybe. A life full of guilt. Of not living up to expectations. Of being too selfish, too greedy, of everything in excess. I am not sure how to live a life that’s not full of remorse. I just want to be content. To have my family content. And I am not sure how to reach that goal.
We live in a house in a nice subdivision. We have a nice lawn, a fence, a sidewalk…but also have all the things that go along with it. We need to mow the lawn, clean the gutters, repair the fence, fix the roof, a new deck, a new ac unit, power wash the house, check the sprinkler system, clean the million bathrooms, shampoo the carpets, the dryer is broken, and now the fridge, and clean some more and declutter, find homes for all these useless things we have bought. The more we have, the more it takes to upkeep and the deeper hole we dig.
I guess I just want out. Out of the machine, out of the monotony, out of being enslaved to technology, connected to my cell phone 24/7. I want to be free. Want us all to be free. In retrospect, have I done it right? Am I doing a good job? I wander outside. I talk to my tomatoes. I feel the earth under my toes. The sun kisses my skin. I am alive. I am not done. Right now, it is ok.