I’ve been meaning to descend into the depths of my heart in an entry, but I’m afraid that once inside my own mind, I won’t be able to make it back to the surface. And I want to keep my head above the water so bad.
Yesterday I worked for 11 hours straight and while happy there was work to do, I couldn’t help thinking about how arbitrary my whole professional life is. How I don’t know if there’s room for any structure, how I struggle to see the outline of any family life. How I still don’t get how people have 4 kids and still make it through the day whereas I’m striving to find purpose just me, F and Sam.
People seem to be so at peace with their little lives, I met a neighbor at a party last week who told me he worked with numbers all day and that he released his creativity through carpeting after hours. Where do people have the energy for that? If I work, walk Sam and make dinner I don’t even have energy left to vacuum clean. (Ok, I admit to hating vacuum cleaning, the noise kills me!)
I’m consumed by my need to write and create, I dream about it at night, pictures are lining up in series before my closed eyes, and yet I haven’t written anything worth reading in a year’s time. I start on several short stories and I can’t seem to follow through, be it by want of motivation or by lack of skills.
I’m not unhappy and I don’t feel depressed, either. And I appreciate being alive, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just that this regular 9-5 life, even though mine is everything but that, doesn’t cut it for me. I want so much more. I need so much more. I’m drowning in need.