Finally settled, this week has been unsettling. Restless, certainly a little anxious, I don't know quite what to do with myself, even though there are things to be done. Much like last July, I sit and read or watch something mindless on instant Netflix. Sadness dances and permeates my being despite my religious attention and effort to make myself exercise, and to stay well-hydrated and fed. Clearly, my survival techniques are out-moded; certainly necessary, but I need more than this aimless feeling provides.
My ever-looming question now that I no longer
have the desire to practice acupuncture; literally, at the forefront of everything: what now?
If one more person comments on how lucky I am, I think I might choke myself to pass out before them. Something dramatic, because I'm so tired of the side of the mouth comments sardonically dropped into casual conversations.
I'm tired of the knowing looks that say I somehow don't understand the life of a working mama. There have been many conversations that have clarified and labeled my work as an acupuncturist saying, 'its not a real job', (without really saying it of course), because I worked for myself and not the man.
You know what? I KNOW I'M LUCKY. I know we're blessed and I am grateful every day. Nor do I take any of this for granted. In fact, I worry even more, certain the shoe is going to drop because it always does.
I feel guilty and ashamed because for the first time in our lives we're doing better than we have, and because of that I have the luxury to figure out what now, at my own pace; without a deadline, without having to work outside of the home and struggle to balance it all while finding myself.
I am a mother and wife, but these roles feel inherent and have never been how I identify myself. Working, what I do, has always been important to me and truthfully, ever since I made the decision to not practice last November, I've felt lost. At the time I was still so consumed with grief that I welcomed the respite.
Now, for the first time in my life, I don't know what next. I don't have any big goals that I'm pursuing in relation to my career; I have nothing to be accountable to myself for and it has been terrifying to accept. Since November, I've been chewing on and trying to figure this shit out and finally, (like this week finally), I gave in.
I don't have any answers and I'm done feeling ashamed and deflecting because of it. I'm done with excuse-making and talking a good game, and most of all I'm done with feeling guilty.
This is what I know:
I'm lost. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do and I'm still, a year later, trying to figure it out. And I can do that a whole lot better if you, (those that believe I've got the life of Riley), would stop the snarky and offer support. Or shut the fuck up if you have nothing nice to say.