What the hell happened to me?

This past weekend I almost had a breakdown. As I laid in bed Friday night I realized that I no longer love the life that I have built for myself. Something felt wrong, very very wrong, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I knew that I could not continue on the path that I have been on, but I don’t actually know where I want to go.

Recently just for fun… and if I’m honest maybe due to a little desperation… I paid for a Tarot card reading on Etsy. It was $10. I figured at the worst it was not the most money I’d ever wasted and it might be enjoyable. At best maybe it would give me some perspective. Well when I read it my mouth probably was dropped open the whole time. One thing that really stuck out was the mention of some pretty bad anxiety and personal dissatisfaction. Ouch. I have thought about this often lately. Why am I so dissatisfied ? I am living the life I always wanted. I am married with 4 kids and a dog, I have the house in the suburbs. I wanted this. So why am I unhappy?

I have given a lot of energy to this question lately, and even more so the last few days. I think I finally have come up with an answer.

I stopped living. I have been just getting by. At some point I forgot that while they are the most important parts of my identity, I am not just a wife and mother. A woman I admire did a webinar recently and said woman need to do things daily for themselves. She calls them delights. I realized that I do very very little things that are for my personal pleasure. Somehow I have let all of the things that have to be done complete rule my life. I love to cook for fun not just necessity, I want to garden. I love to write . I stopped doing all of these things or never started.

Why is that? Well being the mom of 4 kids keeps me busy. I somehow no matter how hard I try catch up. There is always a to do list a mile long. If I’m being honest it’s how I have been measuring my worth for far too long. It’s how I guess I have also been determining whether or not I get to enjoy my life. The dishes aren’t done so why cook a fun dish. My laundry isn’t folded so I guess I shouldn’t write. I’m so behind why bother trying to garden when I likely won’t pull that off either. Just writing that is depressing.

I have reached a point where I feel I have two choices. Surrender to the unhappiness or stand up and fight.

I have chosen to fight.

I have been knocked down a lot this past year. I have lost a lot, had to walk away from a lot. What normal I had left disappeared in March when the world went into lock down. My children rely on me now more than ever to give them everything they need, in every way. Physically, mentally. I am responsible for it all. They deserve a better version of me, I deserve a better version of me.

So starting today I am chosing to live again. I am separating my worth and what I deserve to be doing from whether or not the dishes got finished. I will be treating myself to the life I deserve . I will cook for pleasure, I will write, I will maybe start the garden if the place ever gets what I want back in stock, I will take care of myself. Self care will no longer be negotiable.