No longer what we were before, but not all that we will be.
Forgive me for doing the unforgivable--using a quote out of context. That line from a Pam Mark Hall song certainly sums up what's on my mind today, but the message of the song is about more than the mundane issues I'm struggling with today. This struggle is not new, and I've written about it plenty of times in the nine years I've had this blog.
Present day life rarely measures up to the way our past selves imagined it. My thirteen-year-old self wanted to be married before 20 and give birth to my four children before I was 25. We would all live on a farm where I would spend my days doing laundry, playing with my children, cooking meals, and writing poetry and music. (It was a grand plan for using the degree in classical languages or philosophy that I wanted.)
Working as an English teacher with a psychology degree, divorced at 32, remarried at 36, and nearly going bankrupt thanks to immigration issues and life with an unemployed addict never registered on my radar. I also never envisioned myself learning two additional languages (with more in the works), swimming in the Mediterranean, staring in awe at the sweeping stars above the Andes, sleeping in the beds of foreigners, living in another country, or running half-marathons.
In the words of another song I love, That's life.
Today's struggle is the current disconnect between the person I want to be and the person I fear that I am. I know that I'm rather remarkable in that I manage to hold down a full time job that requires an intense amount of my energy during the day and have developed a somewhat successful freelance career despite the fact that my home life resembles the coast of a Caribbean island after the landfall of a Category 4 hurricane.
Yet, I still feel like a colossal failure because I never feel like I'm able to do what I really want to do. I want to cook home made dinners and sit at a table to enjoy them with a nice glass of wine. I want to have my laundry done each week so I don't have to search for *that* one shirt or pair of pants I want to wear. I want a garden outside where I grow my own vegetables and a shady spot in the yard to enjoy the warm Gulf breezes. I want beach Saturdays and a few drunken nights. I want a clean kitchen in the morning. I want my bills paid on time. I want long runs on Sunday mornings where I can commune with God on his own turf. I want a man in my bed who believes in me and loves me and feels like every day I make his life a little better. I want sweaty sex and sloppy kisses and a look that says, "You're always my 'one.'"
Am I asking too much?
I'm trying schedules. I'm trying multi-taking. I'm trying single-tasking. I'm about to try the Eisenhower method of Urgent vs. Important. Something's gotta give here. I need a clean house. I need time to work so I can pay off these ridiculous debts. I need some time for myself. I need some time for carnal moments. I'm not there today, but I'm hoping that tomorrow I'll be one step closer.
Forgive me for doing the unforgivable--using a quote out of context. That line from a Pam Mark Hall song certainly sums up what's on my mind today, but the message of the song is about more than the mundane issues I'm struggling with today. This struggle is not new, and I've written about it plenty of times in the nine years I've had this blog.
Present day life rarely measures up to the way our past selves imagined it. My thirteen-year-old self wanted to be married before 20 and give birth to my four children before I was 25. We would all live on a farm where I would spend my days doing laundry, playing with my children, cooking meals, and writing poetry and music. (It was a grand plan for using the degree in classical languages or philosophy that I wanted.)
Working as an English teacher with a psychology degree, divorced at 32, remarried at 36, and nearly going bankrupt thanks to immigration issues and life with an unemployed addict never registered on my radar. I also never envisioned myself learning two additional languages (with more in the works), swimming in the Mediterranean, staring in awe at the sweeping stars above the Andes, sleeping in the beds of foreigners, living in another country, or running half-marathons.
In the words of another song I love, That's life.
Today's struggle is the current disconnect between the person I want to be and the person I fear that I am. I know that I'm rather remarkable in that I manage to hold down a full time job that requires an intense amount of my energy during the day and have developed a somewhat successful freelance career despite the fact that my home life resembles the coast of a Caribbean island after the landfall of a Category 4 hurricane.
Yet, I still feel like a colossal failure because I never feel like I'm able to do what I really want to do. I want to cook home made dinners and sit at a table to enjoy them with a nice glass of wine. I want to have my laundry done each week so I don't have to search for *that* one shirt or pair of pants I want to wear. I want a garden outside where I grow my own vegetables and a shady spot in the yard to enjoy the warm Gulf breezes. I want beach Saturdays and a few drunken nights. I want a clean kitchen in the morning. I want my bills paid on time. I want long runs on Sunday mornings where I can commune with God on his own turf. I want a man in my bed who believes in me and loves me and feels like every day I make his life a little better. I want sweaty sex and sloppy kisses and a look that says, "You're always my 'one.'"
Am I asking too much?
I'm trying schedules. I'm trying multi-taking. I'm trying single-tasking. I'm about to try the Eisenhower method of Urgent vs. Important. Something's gotta give here. I need a clean house. I need time to work so I can pay off these ridiculous debts. I need some time for myself. I need some time for carnal moments. I'm not there today, but I'm hoping that tomorrow I'll be one step closer.
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