Life is on it’s way.
It’s getting better.
It’s moving forward.
It’s on the up.
We are no longer plummeting towards poverty, and that helps my depression and anxiety.
But things aren’t perfect.
I don’t really believe in perfection but what other word is there?
Things aren’t how I picture them in my head when I picture my “perfect life”.
Will they ever be?
I don’t know.
What about you?
I wish I knew how to relax or meditate.
I am sitting here.
Headphones in my ears, listening to Matchbox Twenty at full volume. I can’t turn the mommy off but I can blare my music when he’s not here.
I can open wordpress into full screen mode.
Close my eyes and type.
Yes I’m trying to get in a zone. My eyes are closed, my headphones in, the cloudy sky breaking through the small opening in my curtain beside my desk. breathe. My knee is bouncing in the nervous habit I’ve had for years. It increases with my anxiety. When it gets difficult to breath, hard to concentrate.
“When all we need is some relief from these hard times”
We have though, oh yes, we have gained relief. So much relief. We can pay for our own food. We can pay our bills, hell I have EXTRA money to use. I can’t remember the last time we had that.
I’m here. Trying so hard to just be present, be in my own body. Be able to write any, all of the drafts I have saved. They have titles and one or two brainstormed words that I wrote down to remind myself of what I wanted to say and yet I can’t seem to write them.
A week ago they were all ready to come out and I didn’t get any time to work. Not in a while and now when I do, I putz around instead of writing because I can’t. I don’t know what to work on anymore.
Sign along, Kendra. Breathe. Sing.
The bouncing takes conscious effort to stop, and now I begin to tap my foot to the rhythm of the music instead, I breath in as my fingers pound, my eyes closed to all and I picture the words I write on my eye lids, the voice of Matchbox Twenty blaring around me.
There is a calmness I seek. A peace. A…grounding and centering.
Everything is disconnected.
I am here and downstairs with my child at the same time.
I am here and at the office with my fiance.
I am here and not.
My mind is scrambled, my body a wreak with unhealthy food and no exercise.
I am here.
Everything is disconnected. I feel frazzled.
And overwhelmed with stuff and no peace as every aspect of my life doesn’t fit together into one large puzzle. I’m missing pieces and the colors and shapes are all wrong.
So what do I do???
How do I ground myself? I don’t have time to write let alone for self care.
I am racked with guilt for wanting a few days away from my son to regroup, and knowing I can’t have it so what is the point of yearning?
Arcade Fire erupts inside of my ears and I am once again transported back to last autumn and the autumn before and the one before that. Things are so different each year to the next. That’s how I know it will be so completely different next year as well. In 2009 I was moving to Boston, excited for a new year a new adventure. 2010 I was moving away from Boston to Pennsylvania, scared and broken from my experiences at art school. 2011, I was newly pregnant, sick all the time and a shut up in my bedroom. 2012, here I am, my son playing downstairs and I am scattered and loosing control while gaining it at the same time.
Am i going anywhere with any of this?
No. I just needed to write. Needed to breathe, needed to get out thoughts because if I didn’t write something, if I didn’t let my fingers just have control with my eyes closed, nature outside of my door and soulful words pouring in to me, I was going to break today.
And that’s the end.