I used to delight in things. I used to have this lovely, misty green hopefulness for life. Nothing feels very hopeful anymore. I havenāt had that feeling for a very very long time. Sometimes I think maybe it is coming back, but it is just the memory of it, the ghost of it, haunting me.
I seem incapable of doing any of the things I say I want to, or need to, or ought to. The words of my father haunt me, too. Iām not working hard enough, Iām entitled, I donāt know what Iām doing. I really donāt. I am terrified. If it was possible for me to shrink away into the wilderness and become the leaf, the grass, the mushrooms, I would. I would take everyoneās memory of me too so they wouldnāt have to feel any pain.
My lover told me to ādo something for myself for once.ā I donāt know what he means. I thought all of this, all of this stupid independence Iāve been acting out was the something for myself. Maybe he means do something without thinking of anyone else first, without considering how my choice will impact the relationship. This feels like blasphemy, a trap, I know that it is not. But I recoil just the same. Again, my fatherās words ringing in my ears.
How does a girl go from popsicle stick crafts to COO? Itās agonizing, I can tell you that much. I want to be doing popsicle stick crafts, lying in the grass, playing with dogs and babies. Am I on my way to becoming a gray haired woman who tells people, āoh well I had a lovely career running a business but I hardly ever found time for my passions. Donāt waste your life, dear, do what you love!ā
I say it all now. I canāt take my own advice. I hate the constrictions of the world, my world, the one I chose and made for myself, the one unfolding before me. Will I ever be free of the frantic feeling of wanting to hit pause? Grasping wildly at any lever or button that looks like stop on this hideous roller coaster Iām on?
35. I thought Iād be kinda done with these thoughts by now. How does one find what they want and act on it? Iāve never known. Will probably never know. All my life I seem to be doing the next right thing and I donāt see that itās gotten me anywhere I want to be. But I never know what is right or wrong, an argument can always be made for both.
Nearly 1 am. Iām writing on a platform Iāve been on for 15 years. I donāt want accolades or encouragement, or a fat paycheck or a fancy title. I just want someone to hold me while I cry.
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