It’s probably best I don’t say much. Its part frustration, part disappointment, with a smidgen off irritation thrown in just for good measure. And confusion. I’m confused. Mixed signals aren’t better than no signal at all.
Yeah. Frustrated.
It’s probably best I don’t say much. Its part frustration, part disappointment, with a smidgen off irritation thrown in just for good measure. And confusion. I’m confused. Mixed signals aren’t better than no signal at all.
Yeah. Frustrated.
I have a right to be irritated when it’s justified and well earned. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone if I don’t want to. And I don’t. I just want to be irritated, let it run it’s course, and move on.
I don’t want to be mis-read or mis-led. I strive for transparency in they things I do and the ways I behave. I expect that from others and am often disappointed when it’s not reciprocated.
I’m probably too demanding. Too uptight. Too analytical. Definately too sensitive.
I’m a woman. Not a game.
Imagine yourself on a playground merry-go-round. Not the fancy amusement park types with horses & sleighs but the average galvanized steel man powered type. The stronger the kid that’s pushing, the faster you all go around. When your the little kid, you sit at the base of a guard rail and wrap your arms and legs around just to keep yourself from being flung off. Your ok. As long as you can hold on, you’re ok. Your view of the playground is this fantastic blur of colors blending together like a water color painting that’s been rained on and has smeared. You can hear the sounds all around you but can’t place them with their makers. There’s no way you’re going to try and do something stupid like stand up or jump off of the merry-go-round as it spins. Hold on. Just hold on. Faster, faster, faster, faster. Hold on, just hold on.
After a while, the stronger kid stops pushing and walks away. The merry-go-round begins to slow down. You are able to start focusing on the faces and voices that before ran together. You try and bring yourself to your feet as the ride slows even further. Your legs are wobbly as you finally dare to jump off. You’re dizzy. You’re balance hasn’t returned and you’re afraid that at any moment you’ll fall and eat some serious pavement.
My merry-go-round has slowed down. I can finally begin to focus on all the things around me that need my attention. But my legs are wobbly and I’m scared to jump.
I am thankful that life is returning to a normal pace and the routines that I once found so normal, dull and boring, are blissfully once again normal. Boring. Dull. I’m ready to be bored. But with this slower pace, I feel like my emotions inside haven’t realized the ride is over and they continue to spin.
I’m not sleeping very well. Part of that has been self-induced. It’s so easy to stay up till midnight or 1:00 a.m. puttering around the house sorting through bags and boxes that are begging for my attention. Bookshelves and bar stools sit in their boxes waiting to be put together. Photo albums are stacked against a wall, at the bottom of a to-do list of things to be cleaned and re-organized.
I’ve tried to make a concerted effort to be in bed by 9:00 with lights out and computer off by 10:00 p.m. Some nights I’m better at this than others. Going to bed earlier isn’t always the issue. It’s staying asleep. Not tossing and turning for a hour when I wake up at 3:00 a.m. because of an unfamiliar sound or because I’m still not comfortable in a bed that’s not my own.
Hold on. Hold on. Just hold on.
Obviously I’m stubborn and more than a little thick headed. I’m eager for God to reveal His great plan for my life because lately, I’m just not getting it. I’m tired, I’m frustrated, I’m lonely, and I’m growing impatient. Does He want me to get mad? Does He want me to get fired up? What am I supposed to be doing? What am I missing? There’s a point out there somewhere that’s just not reaching me.
I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels, moving from one day to the next, not making much of a difference with anything that I’m doing. On Tuesdays, I do the same thing that I do every single Tuesday. On Wednesdays, I do the same thing that I do every single Wednesday. I’m stuck in this loop, halfway afraid I’ll never make it off and halfway afraid of what would happen if I jumped.
Don’t tell me life is what happens while you wait. I’m tired of that line. I’m tired of all the same reasons, justifications, and excuses. I’m tired of everything getting me nowhere. I’m restless and irritated most of the time. I feel highly productive yet utterly useless all at once.
There’s gotta be something more
Gotta be more than this
I need a little less hard time
I need a little more bliss
I’m gonna take my chances
Taking a chance I might
Find what I’m looking for
There’s gotta be something more
–Sugarland
There are certain acceptable ways to treat a person and then there are not-so-acceptable ways. It’s frowned upon, in my opinion, to yell at someone who’s agreeing with you on a particular matter and trying to lighten your load in general. You can pretty much count on your yelling to negatively color the rest of their day. So don’t be surprised when they speak to you no more than what’s required for quite some time.