I used to delight in things. I used to have this lovely, misty green hopefulness for life. Nothing feels very hopeful anymore. I haven’t 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. I’m not working hard enough, I’m entitled, I don’t know what I’m doing. I really don’t. 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 everyone’s memory of me too so they wouldn’t have to feel any pain.
My lover told me to “do something for myself for once.” I don’t know what he means. I thought all of this, all of this stupid independence I’ve 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 father’s words ringing in my ears.
How does a girl go from popsicle stick crafts to COO? It’s 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, “oh well I had a lovely career running a business but I hardly ever found time for my passions. Don’t waste your life, dear, do what you love!”
I say it all now. I can’t 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 I’m on?
35. I thought I’d be kinda done with these thoughts by now. How does one find what they want and act on it? I’ve never known. Will probably never know. All my life I seem to be doing the next right thing and I don’t see that it’s 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. I’m writing on a platform I’ve been on for 15 years. I don’t 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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