I suppose there is some subliminal message in my writings. It’s probably “help! I’m lost? I can’t find my way!” Others might hear it. I cannot.
It takes a crowd of voices, mostly in my head, for me to faintly hear anything.
The shouts of my brain, my soul, my psyche have been telling me that what I am searching for is “MY thing”. My thing to call MY OWN. Sometimes finding the right word for it makes it so much clearer.
Running and training for a half-marathon has been ALL ABOUT ME. It’s been MY Thing. It’s been good for me. It feels like the only thing I have and do just for me.
Now maybe that’s just the way it works for a mom. But I think I should have more.
I’ve been fixated on my husband’s unhappiness and utter frustration with work. I get fixated on every up and down of my children’s lives. While I enjoy being so intimately connected to people, I realize it’s not healthy for me.
I recently used the phrase “imprisoned” to describe my unhappiness stemming from my husband’s unhappiness (with work). I have felt like I can’t settle, grow, spread my wings, relax or be myself for fear that my world will close in on me and we will move.
I’m sure that whole sentence represents a therapist’s onion to help unpeel. I know what it’s about however, so I don’t think I need the therapist.
What I need is something to call my own. I’ve been thinking it’s a job; a way to bring in some money so I feel like we can take an airplane trip w/o dipping into our investment accounts, or so I can buy myself some fun clothes. Maybe a job would give my spouse some security to find his next path.
Is my thing to call my own — a new career path? Taking design classes? Should I train to be a teacher?
My homework is to try to figure out what MY THING is; MY THING to fixate on. My thing to make good for me.
Time to let go and be free and happy!