I just read a blog by a young girl (I don’t know how old she is but 25-ish, I’d guess), who is an amazing writer, cuts herself and is apparently in and out of mental institutions due to severe depression. I read it and I laughed and cried and recognized myself and thought: “Oh, silly young girl – EVERYONE feels like that.” And I remembered having that feeling of not knowing.. Who to be, what to do, how to make all that dormant potential BLOOM! Well, I would still think that and feel that, if I had any energy. Whatsoever. This winter has been heinous! Everybody sick, no energy, depressing, depressing. I run on sunlight – then why do I live somewhere where for 4,5 months of the year there is only sun for 6 hours a day – namely while you’re at work??
I am seriously contemplating how to move my job, colleagues, family and friends and the 6 weeks of paid vacation I have annually with me to somewhere with a nicer climate. I have a smart husband. He could get a job somewhere exotic and I could be a housewife. Tend the kids, do some gardening. Write on my blog. Recipes or knitting. Or just about life in Where-ever.
Here at the brink of Spring, life is tolerable. I am just so damn bored. Tired. Overwhelmed. Underwhelmed, actually.
IS THIS IT?
I seriously miss being in love with life. Seems like I am barely scraping by – surviving. (Am shamefully feeling ungrateful for writing that – with all that I have in comparison to all the shit that goes on in the world…)
Am writing myself into a rut here. Must now go catch three sun-rays. Am home today because the daycare called. The 2-year old threw up. Was looking pretty icky-poo when I came to get him. Took him lovingly into my arms just in time to receive cascades of vomit. On my newly dry-cleaned jacket, my pants, my sweater, all over himself on in his hair. He is now sleeping, I am washing clothes and writing myself in to a rut.
Is it some kind of sign that I really identify with a mental patient?
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