End of the Week :: Overflow Thoughts

Sometimes I write things down so I don’t have to think about them at 3am.

Overall I’m proud of the person I’m becoming as I turn 33 soon. The other day I ‘held space’ for a young student mourning the loss of a family pet. I’ve been through enough shit (ahem, loss) that I felt I could really be there with her loss. Ten years old is an age where shit gets real… Even small children have big feelings, but at 10 it seems like you start to see yourself and the things you’re going through in the context of the world around you.. and that can be scary. Lesson plans be damned; that was the best part of my week.

My whole goal in life is to be the person I would want for myself. The coworker, the friend, the aunt, the wife. I have a long way to go, no doubt, and I get that it sounds a little narcissistic. But aren’t we all? Isn’t narcissism a human survival mechanism? If we weren’t worried about ourselves, we wouldn’t have fought that sabertooth tiger. Or the t-rex. I kid. Humans and dinosaurs didn’t live at the same time, unless you’re Chris Pratt in Jurassic World.

This week has left me tiiiiiired. Like teacher tired. Like it’s almost spring break but we ain’t got no spring break tired.

Zzzzz……

Passion + espresso

I am terrified I won’t feel passion for any life decision again. I spent 28 years of my life preparing to house and birth a child. I chose my college major and my profession around my desire to be a mother. When dating I looked for someone who would not only be a great life partner, but also a good person to raise little people with. When I lost weight initially it was to be healthy for carrying of said child.

How could all of that come from no passion?

Now I’m left with the, needless to say, solid and good consequences from those life decisions. How could it still be empty and (sometimes feel) meaningless?

When I’d be frustrated at work or fed up with someone outside of my home, it was easy for me to escape that situation mentally. In the same vein, when things were good at work and I was really enjoying whatever task was at hand, I had these little jolts of adrenaline (or some other hormone, so sue me I’m not a doctor) that made my heart skip a beat and make me feel infinite happiness and contentment, even just for a moment.

At that time I knew that whatever situation I was experiencing would not compare to what it’d be like to be at home with my nuclear family, my 2.5 kids exactly all 2 years apart, wiping their hands and mouths at lunchtime while the spring breeze blew through the window. I knew at that moment that I’d look at my babies and think back to when I worked and how I couldn’t wait for this moment right here, and how I was finally here and how all existentially amazing that was and pity my former nonparent self. (Disclaimer: I’m kind of a bitch to myself.)

Now, when I have any situation at work, with a friend, or wherever, that is my moment. That is what is, that’s the present. There’s no future moment that’ll come Back-to-the-Future me, no Delorian that will transport me to mornings of dirty high chair trays and fresh laundry coming out of the dryer. There’s just this moment.

The kicker is that I want that breeze-blowing, laundry-scented moment anyway. All the time. Because someone somewhere told me if I just pray enough or am good enough or worthy enough, God will give me the desires of my heart.

The children of that well-meaning but mistaken person should be given a kitten and a few shots of espresso and let loose in the china shop.

Just don’t take my espresso and give it to that child. I’ll be sipping it at the kitchen table, windows open, letting the breeze cool it before it touches my lips.