Another step on the road

I just finished reading this amazing blog by this woman who has twice as many kids as me and a farm to manage (!) and I can’t help but feel envious. She makes it look so effortless while I struggle to think of things to do for a half hour with my two year old. I work full time, am 7 months pregnant and suffer from a lack of creativity (thanks for that qualification, therapist before last). I was born in the year of the snake and completely feel those qualities define me – lanquid, quick to strike, etc. I used to want to be fetching (yes, fetching) but I can do that (when I’m not 7 months pregnant looking like a basketball is about to fall out from under my shirt perhaps but still). But now, I want to be smart. I want to be successful. I want to feel fulfilled! As corny as I feel writing that, I have no greater wish.


But I am not a pioneer woman, or even a very good multi-tasker. I like to start projects only to move on to other ones. I’m better at starting than finishing. I have a friend whose wife is a lawyer. They have two kids and one has cystic fibrosis. I have a feeling it would take everything I have just to cope with that and deal with the tremendous, daily heartache and passionate bittersweet love that would invoke. This lovely lady organized an annual charity event to raise funds for research. She’s a freaking lawyer so you know she’s smart and she has her stuff together so well, on top of her daily grind, she successfully organized a charity event that’s now in its third year. I don’t know why that irks me so but it plays perfectly into my tendency to tear myself apart. The typical questions come rolling over me: why couldn’t I do something like that, what should I be doing differently, what the hell is wrong with me?


I never have answers to these questions except to turn them off and distract myself. They are not serious questions, they might’ve been at one point in my life, maybe when I first started asking them. But over the years, remaining unanswered, I’ve finally accepted that they are pointless. There are no answers that can satisfy them and so I believe they are from a part of my head that is not very healthy and I ignore them. I know that they stem from my miserably low self-esteem, although how it ever got that way is a real mystery to me.  Sometimes I choose to dwell in them but those days usually end up sour and unproductive. Instead, I have to force myself to get out of myself and move right on along. Write something, go to work, talk to someone, read a different blog, change my perspective. I know I am not the loser my head sometimes tries to tell me I am. And one of these days I will find a way to prove it to myself. That’s the essence of this blog, my blog, essentially. To figure things out I’ve been unsuccessful at understanding so far. Maybe you can help?