Early, early.
I have started listening to short meditations during my stretching my exercises, again. I find when my confidence is down, it helps me to quickly recenter and gain perspective. I don't know why I fall out of the habit sometimes. One thing I dislike about my desire to write about things, is the feeling that people think I am lying around in anguish over my feelings. For me, though, writing about my feelings (very carefully filtered, of course-the world can't handle the truth!), helps me to process and gain perspective. While I may have bled all over the page, I guarantee I enjoyed it, and I am feeling better.
Waking up at 2:30, aged 47. First, I stumbled across someone on Facebook who looked amazing after getting a trainer and going to a gym. I briefly thought of doing such a thing, sans the big arm muscle thing, because that is gross, but then remembered I still have 3 years to go before my credit cards are paid off. Nasty little things. The dream is full-time school next year, and Alec in public pre-k. I love the pre-k teacher at his current preschool, but we are talking $600-800 difference a month . That's a big deal. It does make me feel like a commoner, contemplating public preschool, however.
I realize I am not likely to become a famous blogger. The focus and discipline is just too much. I want to write what I want to write. What is it about this world that says if we like something, we need to make it profitable? Why always the push? Yeah, it'd be nice to make extra money, but is it necessary or even best? All the strive, strive, striving and how many people get there? Is it worth the trade-off of just being me?
So I only slept about 3 hours. I probably would have gotten back to sleep if Gabe hadn't come in 5 minutes into my waking time. He then snuggled right up against me, and I can't breathe like that. I know women are supposed to have a reputation for wanting to snuggle all night, but that makes me feel suffocated. Both couches are horrifically uncomfortable. I'll survive. I must be very tired, though, because I spent five minutes trying to get a picture of the back of my thighs to convince myself they weren't that bad and I should wear shorts more. The phone was too slippery and I couldn't quite manage it. Now that I am more awake, however, I think maybe I am delusional about the back-thigh thing and should stick to skirts and capris when it is hot.
I adore Alec and he adds so much to our life, but I do not recommend having a child at 43. I just can't keep up, especially since I have to work full-time. I can't work full-time, and come home and keep the house up with a 3 year old messing it up. It's too much. For now, we are just living in messy mediocrity until he is old enough to stop destroying everything. It's a waiting game. I am too tired to invite people over, and I actually love having people over. I just don't have the energy to clean and prepare food and be involved and entertaining on top of it all. I am lonely. I understand why people pay for counseling. Sometimes there are things outside your control, that you desire to talk about and process, that your family can't be burdened with (because you know the judgement they would have), and because you need an outside perspective from someone who won't be impacted by the choices you make. Alas, still paying off the credit cards. There is just this thing I need perspective on, but people who care about me would be shocked and tell me to do X, but I really just want to find a way to make Y work (no, I am not having an affair) And it makes me mad, because it's not me or my fault, but I have to deal with it and process it, and....just sucky all around.
When I was younger, my friends would come to me to talk about their dating struggles, and I, in my infinite theoretical wisdom (because I was at home reading everything I could get my hands on, but not out experiencing life), would give pretty decent advice. And they would come and thank me. And then I would look at my own dating experiences, and I was a mess. I could never follow my own good advice. This applies to all life lessons, I guess. And now, as I get older, I find experiences have turned the certainty I used to feel, upside down, and I just throw my hands up say, "Hey! Do what you gotta do." At the very least you'll get an interesting emotional learning experience to process. Maybe that's okay. Maybe messy is okay. When you remember how limited our time here is, who wants hospital corners? Just don't be poor. Not being able to travel or get a good Gyro sucks. God, I love that creamy, tangy white sauce on those things. Just put in a bottle and let me drink it. Where can I get that stuff?
I find myself wanting another tattoo. The one I have faded so much. It's small and I go back and forth between wanting to enhance it, or to embrace its imperfection and move on to something else. I always thought tattoos were just a bit trashy-and part of me still does-but there is this desire to mark these experiences on my body. I can't really explain it. It is just this need inside. Who knows if I will? It doesn't really matter either way. I am sort of past the age of caring what people think about it. Those who get it, get it, and those who don't, well, don't. Whatever.
I am so tired. I was going to get enough sleep, so I didn't look like the walking dead in the video I need to record in a couple hours, but...alas, that's not happening. I am so happy we have virtual Wednesdays. I need that break. I am so tired by the middle of the week. I mean I am working at home, trust me, but going out and extraverting is exhausting. Did you know extrovert is more commonly used now, but extravert is the more technical psychology term? I just looked it up.
Welp. It's four now. I finished my cup of coffee and am going to try and get a little nap in.
