The matter…

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Being 47 years of age, I observe the world around me, a lot. I learn more when I sit back and listen. I learn more when I am just still and I let life move around me.

The pandemic taught me that I had all the basics and I have a lot of Blessings. It taught me to take nothing for granted and even though sometimes I feel like the biggest loser, I actually have “favor”.

The hardest thing for me to deal with right now on my life is discovering the fullness of the life I have versus the unrealistic, aspirational, life I thought I wanted. I struggle with the fact I never saw the forest, but kept banking my desires on one tree.

The matter at hand is that I am so grateful for the life I have, especially when you juxtapose it against the place from which I come. Yet, there is a piece of me missing in this life. I don’t know why I feel this way. …but I feel it deep in my soul. I have a hard time accepting how uncomfortable it makes me feel.

Let’s start with my home. I dribble over the internet about how I need to redecorate my home since the divorce. I have even recently admitted that a lot of the beauty of my home and it’s grandeur was actually the musing and wonderful eye of my ex-husband. This house was his dream. I helped fund it and was along for the ride. I didn’t know who I was in that moment. I was living in fear and anguish, silently and worse of all — internally.

When I look around my own home, I see junk, untidyness, hippie-esque infusion and I think to myself that is my only contribution besides the important fact I pay the mortgage. Oh and the chalkboard wall, that was my idea. Lol. The accent colors, the kitchen trim, the wall paint, it was all him. And it makes me angry because I’m 7 years into the abyss after the finalization of our divorce. In 7 years, I haven’t actually accomplished anything but staying alive and rebuilding myself bit by bit. In 7 years, I have managed to appreciate everything corner of this house, but I still feel like people walk-in and think, poor thing, she is a hippie gone astray. Although I love grandeur and grand things, my house literally is the personification of “Hey y’all, take your shoes off at the door.” Lmao!!!!

I’m starting to wonder if the key to adulthood is learning that what you say you are and what you really are can be far removed. Then peak adulthood is learning to be happy with your lot in life and be well chuffed with who you actually are.

Sometimes it is overwhelming, it makes me cry. I admit it. I cry because on the one hand I am praying that I live a long life with my Sarcoidosis and on the other hand I feel like I am supposed to be “doing better” than I am in this moment. Hell, I get overwhelmed just surviving and being a working class SuperMom on a regular basis. I’ve just learned how to manage the big crying sessions in between and balance them out with great conversations and laughter from those close to me.

The matter. The matter at hand is my self-actualization goals have gone awry. The constant self-reflection I bring upon myself has brought me a lot of joy in understanding who I am and in tandem, sometimes I am to the point that I am pontificating the hell out of my own soul