A thousand thoughts I think every day and then they slip my mind as the day drones on. They fall into a my brain colander and then slip through the tiny holes again at the bottom, dispersed like little bits of worthless brain dust.
I desperately want to grab at least one thought. String it together with another and make sense of something. I long daily to write it out, work it out. See it, be it. Have my separate world evolve, create, inspire, make meaning and impact.Perhaps twice a week I may have a couple of hours to possibly do this. But sometimes, there’s just no room for me.
The rest of the time, I’m sinking into monotonous minutes of obstinate rage. Power struggle and love. I have an anchor attached to my leg and usurping my brain. She’s beautiful and manipulative and there’s no way I’m getting any clear thinking done. Not on her watch. Muddle on my little ginger-headed gal.
I tell myself “soon” over and over. Soon there will be long thoughtful stretches. Soon she’ll be in school. Soon it won’t be Summer. Soon she won’t be sick. Soon I’ll like her again. Soon I’ll have permission again to be me.
I negotiate for today with my feelings of resentment. And then I get to go to sleep and wake up and start my frustration anew tomorrow. My brain grabbing again for a moment and a moment and a moment, just one to make things all good again. Wake me when toddler-hood is over.
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sounds like menopause?
It could happen KB. It could happen.