Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Some Days

I need to write.  It is just one of those day, but sitting here, I have not idea what to write.  I wish I understood the point to all of this mess.  I wish I understood the point; that there is a point I have no doubt, it is just what it is that eludes me.

P O I N T

There it sits, perfectly spelled out and everything; but even spelled perfectly, I still do not understand it.  

I felt so good about applying for that job, the one I had four interviews for and really wanted.  But, as it often happens, there was only one position and I did not get it.  I was one of the last two, out of over 200 applicants, and still my odds were only ever even.  Another position has opened in the same company, almost identical to the one I almost got, but I am terrified to apply for it.  Why would this be?  The worst that can happen is that I do not get this one either.  Or would it be worse to actually get the job?  I am so confused, I am not even running in circles anymore, it is more like bad crazy quilting, the kind that overlaps in all the wrong places with no pattern whatsoever.  

I need an occupation, a career, something that keeps me both busy and feeling productive.  Somehow, in the last year, being a wife is just not enough.  Perhaps this is because I feel that I am a failure at being a wife.  I try to get routines going, try to get things organized and in order.  Trying to downsize.  But somehow this is not enough, even on the days that I really get things done.  The days where I have dinner waiting  when my husband walks in the door from work; the days where the laundry not only got washed but also folded and put away; the days that the dishes are all washed and the kitchen is spotless; the days where I am doing, rather than simply being.  Perhaps it is simply that those days are so few and far between.  And for the last several months, I spend most days counting the smallest of accomplishments because nothing big happens.  

Some days all I have is that I am alive and out of bed. 

Some days my poor husband comes home from work and I have crawled back in bed.

Some days it takes everything I have to get out of bed in the first place.

These are important steps, but I hate that they are all I have.  

oh... something makes horrible, terrible sense to me.  I want to make a difference for others, but how the hell am I supposed to help other people when I cannot even help myself?!  

Add to this the fear that things will never change for me, that I will be broken for the rest of forever and never be happy for longer than a day at a time every few months.  

I am tired of the crap, the anger, the tired itself.  There is a  P O I N T, fine.  But I am not staying here any longer.  I am not a victim, not even of my own making.  I am not doing the "same old" any more, because it does not work.  I will beat this, because I have watched others give up and I will not make the same mistake.  I will not sit and let life go past anymore, I will go out and find it for myself.  I have no idea how this will work out, but I think I am finally angry enough to let go of the Devil I know for the Devil I don't.  And as I go about this, if people do not understand what I am doing or why, that is their problem.  There are some things I need to do for me, things that are hard and hard to understand if you have not had to face them yourself.  

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Anything, Somehow

My brain is exhausted.  It is 2:22 in the morning, and my mental exhaustion is such that I cannot sleep.  Part of me is desperate for sleep, and another part of me relishes being up so late, knowing that the silence is for a reason.

When my husband is home, we have a good time.  We cook, talk, tease, and love the time we have to spend together.  When I am home alone, I find the need to fill the house with sound; a movie I have seen so many times I can quote it forward and backward, music of some kind, something, ANYTHING to fill the silence. At night, the silence is hard, but it makes sense, it is a balm to my heart that aches for something to fill the silence during the day.

At almost thirty, I have decided that I need a career.  I've had jobs, but it is time to let go of one dream and pursue a new path. So far, I have been unable to have children.  They are all I want, but I have very little hope of getting them in the near future, no matter the path we choose.  And I suck at being just a house wife.  With nothing to push me, I have not been able to push myself, and so nothing gets done because it can always be done tomorrow.  I must point out that I am not saying that a career is a bad thing to pursue, it is simply not my first choice.

I have spent the last year trying to figure myself out, trying to figure out how I tick, and all the while feeling that I would be unable to find anything that would help me change the pattern of how my life is going.  The last time I threw my plan out the window, I married the man of my dreams six months sooner than planned.  I do not know to this day why that six months was important, but it was.  And so, I must have faith that this has a purpose, that this new plan that I did not want but that I need to follow will make the difference I could not find on my own. 

As I sit here typing in the dark, I feel... not peace, but perhaps comfort.  My plan needs tweaking, I may have a few odd steps to work out, but moving forward someway, somehow, must be done.  The dream exists, but the path to get there is not what I planned or expected.  I am brokenhearted, but somehow I know that it will all be for the best in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end.