It’s been a long day.
Rain patters on the window of my office drowning out the ticking of the clock. My thoughts have been haunting me all day and nothing I do is helping them stop. I’ve been stuck in this awful cycle people call adulthood.
Yet I don’t think it’s this way for everyone, others seem like they are content where they are, yet I feel trapped.
I’ve hit several accomplishments before my others my age, I bought a house, a car, started a business, have a decent paying job, I’m married and I have 2 silly cats. 3 if you count Mable the stray who won’t go away. I have a good life. All of these things I had hoped to achieve before 25 and I’ve done them all before 22.
Yet something feels missing.
As a kid I was extremely creative, if there was an art project or anything to do with using my imagination you bet I was trying it. Most times perfecting it. I’m a dreamer, my goals have always been unachievable and I was okay with that. However when I hit my teen years I discovered hustle culture. I watched as influencers achieve the life they wanted by checking of tasks on a todo list. Achieving the body of their dreams by following a glow up plan and so on. Everywhere I looked someone was accomplishing what I wanted.
Yet, no matter how hard I tried I kept falling flat. Year after year I would be making progress yet it wasn’t the type I wanted or in the way other people were so I felt inadequate. If I didn’t see improvement like they were than that means I was doing something wrong and I needed to restart.
Perfection has destroyed a lot of my joy in life.
Things I used to do because they felt good I no longer can do without obsessing on if I have enough keywords, the best SEO friendly title, Most popular song, if it sounds good or looks good. The thoughts are never ending.
I used to crochet because it was fun and people loved getting gifts from me. Now I have at least 20 unfinished projects because I can’t get the motivation to do them because I’m scared of failing, or that they look bad, or the person won’t like it.
I used to write because I enjoy telling stories but now I don’t know how to because what if it doesn’t fit in the right niche or what if I don’t edit it good enough or what if it just sucks in general, will serve no purpose.
I used to cook and try so many new recipes but, how can I enjoy it when food costs so much and it takes so much time? I have maybe 3 hours of free time and it’s not even free. Not if I want to work on my business, make sure the house is cleaned, get ready for work the next day, have no blue light for at least an hour before bed while dealing with the fatigue of work and now seasonal depression and what about working out? I need to stay fit right?
How did I get here?
How did I go from a child with stars in my eyes to an adult waiting for the weekend yet wanting it to never come because then I have to prepare for the next?
Is it the truama I went through as a kid now showing face? Or the endless scrolling of other peoples lives since I was a teen? Could it be my habit of trying to turn every interest into a business?
Or perhaps this is how life is supposed to be…
Maybe I have yet to accept my fate as an adult and I’m just making this harder than it needs to be. Maybe dreams are supposed to stay dreams. Life is about what you have.
Right?
I’m so confused right now because I had this whole plan. When I got married I would enjoy my mornings reading the bible and praying, after breakfast I would enjoy writing in the morning sun, I’d spend my afternoons crocheting up a pattern I designed and maybe gift it to my friend I planned to hang out with. That pattern would be the way I bring my income in to my family. I would go to the gym with my husband and lift weights and have small competitions to which he would win but I would try my hardest to give him a run for his money. I want to cook dinner and make something beautiful and fulfilling and maybe just maybe play a few games before we turned in for the night.
Money wouldn’t be a stressor, sitting in an office for 8 hours wouldn’t be a daily, saving all the housework and chores for the weekends, which are meant for fun but no longer happen because we work too much wouldn’t happen. Exhausting ourselves for the simplest version of life and yet still not able to have it wouldn’t be our reality.
But it is.
“You have a good evenin’ Mrs. Kendra,”.
My coworkers voice interrupts me out of my spiraling thoughts. A warm smile on his face greets me and I said my fair wells to him, wishing him a good night. I know he has his own struggles as well yet he seems to be happy, to be content with what he has at this point in life.
Maybe in all my searching, all my goals, all my todo lists and dreams, maybe just maybe the thing I’ve been missing this who time was a better prospective.
My husband had given my crap about my views on life since we started dating, I always blew him off because, why would he need to stress over anything when I’ve already done it for him.
But maybe he was right. Not that I would ever tell him that, I can imagine his smug smile now. But maybe I can be happy where I am, in this season of my life. I know it won’t always be like this. Maybe I can change how I approach things in my life, my goals for the future and how I can let go of my need for perfection.
But how?
Where do I start?
Leave a Reply