My friend, Sam, wrote a great post on Facebook. I loved the post. Fell asleep and woke up thinking about it bc I have those off days and sometimes it’s so hard to get out of a funk. Sometimes the dark actually feels so safe and familiar that I end up staying there longer than I should.
God has blessed my life in so many ways and I struggle to accept it sometimes bc it feels so foreign. Like I’ve been a fighter all my life. Not just for me but for my friends, family, justice. Hahahaha. To the point my husb has said for me to stop bc some things aren’t my battle.
Sitting still with happiness is scary for me because I wonder when she’s going to escape me like most things and people have in my life as a child. I keep telling myself, I’m not that abandoned child anymore but old scars don’t heal completely and always leave a trace of remembrance of how the hurt occurred.
I just read that loneliness comes from when you don’t have a purpose. I feel lonely a lot even with kids and a great husband. You cannot get edification through people, I’ve come to learn because when they grow and move in different directions from you… That same underlying loneliness will revisit you again. So what’s my purpose? What’s yours?
As a stay-at-home mother and wife, I’ve kinda given up my personal purpose and invested my purpose into the happiness of my kids and husband… And that there is a lonely and yet rewarding journey because your own purpose feels hidden somewhere. So I hope you find and stay where your happiness is.
This happiness thing to me is like peace… You feel its presence and you know its essence… You know its visited you and you know you’re its home … But sometimes you feel like you put it in such a safe place, you yourself forgot where it is.
Does that make sense?
I was at my OB/Gyn appointment when my quirky Dr started talking about exercising.
He asked me, “do you exercise?”
I said, “yes.”
He said, “what do you do?”
Me: “I do some cardio.”
Him: “Like what?”
Me: “Elliptical. Light running.” (Hamster (internal dialogue): why the f is he asking such details? OK OK… I don’t exercise that much… Geez).
Him: “Do you do spinning?”
Me: “No. No way. I don’t need my crotch to be on fire.”
Him: “But you are standing most of the time.”
Me: “Yes. If you do it right. Why? Did you like it?”
Him: “yeah, the after. But during, I didn’t like it because everyone else seemed better than me.”
Me: “You’re a perfectionist.”
Him: “Yeah, well duh. Aren’t you?”
Me: “No. I’m average. And I’m contented being average.”
Yep, these are the convo’s I have with my Gyno. Crazy, right? He’s young. He’s funny. I hear mommies go nuts over him. I get it. But to me, he’s just my Gyno/part time shrink.
With this convo, I realized that the pursuit of perfection is fuel for some people and disaster for others. For me, it’s not fun. It hasn’t been fun. To be honest, I don’t know what perfection is. I get glimpses of it when I stare at my daughter. When I feel her unjaded sweetness… I think that’s as close to perfection I am ever going to get. When she was an infant… she was perfection. But I missed the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy it because I was so caught up in my own distress. Now, she’s perfection in her stubborness, her humor, her naivety…and her blossoming personality. But for me personally, the pursuit of it has oftentimes left me feeling even more inadequate and lonely.
So yes, I am absolutely resolved with being mediocre. Average. Normal. The ironic thing is… I don’t even know what normal is. I let out a chuckle right now because really… what is normal? I’d like to think it could be me. That I really am and could be normal. That I could feel normal. That would feel like perfection to me.