Wrapping up the #lastdayofmy20s I still have work to finish while the baby-turned-toddler sleeps.
Or rather the few minutes he’ll sleep before demand more boob for what feels like the umpteenth time. It’s not his fault. He’s still little, and he’s cutting a tooth. The last couple times I popped upstairs I couldn’t help but let a few tears trickle and leak out.
Tears that contained exhaution, anxiety, pain and frustrations.So far 2016 has been rough, this last week has been no exception, and to cap it off I’m being flung into another decade tomorrow, and I’m feeling really uncertain about it. I’ve had a sour feeling in my stomach each and every time someone has brought it up and along with that sour feeling my anxiety spikes. Why? I have no flipping idea, it’s a rather silly thing to allow tl happen, but it keeps happening, and as the last 120 minutes (in eastern standard time anyway) tick away the pit in my stomach becomes a little more persistent.
I think I good part of these feelings are wrapped around not only 2016 being a hard year, but also that 30 seems like such a big milestone to be flung into. Reflecting on it during my rather ridiculous commute home that took more than twice as long (thanks major chemical spill) I guess part of it is me wondering if I’m where I wanted to be per my younger self.
I have the husband, the (hopefully) first of my children. I’ve gotten a degree, gotten to go on adventures both in the States and in Europe. I’m somewhat functional (a bit rusty now) in another languge. And this is mearly scratching the surface of what’s happened in the last decade of my life.
Yet, despite all of it, I’m still finding myself questioning who I am, what I’m doing with my life and where I’m going.
Am I who I really set out to be and who I had hoped? Am I happy with what I’ve done with my life and what I’m currently doing? And am I going in the direction I want to?
They seem like simple questions to answer, but they aren’t. And I’m not sure of I can answer them fully tonight or actually ever. I don’t know if I’m really meant to.
In the birthday card my grandmother sent (yes I already opened the card) she suggested I do something ‘outrageous’. And at this moment I’m not sure what that something would entail. Maybe it will come to me tomorrow when I wake up in another decade.