Little stirrings. Small ideas. Tiny seeds of interest. But it’s scary to think of taking the plunge, of stepping out of my 9+ years of comfort-zone safety and actually doing anything about those little twinges.
School? Maybe. But maybe not. I hate studying for the grade. I hate passing the test to keep from wasting tuition money. I hate regurgitating, and worrying about getting the ‘A’. And I vowed to myself that if I ever went back, it would be to do something I actually want to learn about. Which brings me to the second issue: what would that be? What could it possibly be that I would want to learn enough about to go back to school for? To get an actual degree? General studies appeals to me – a major in a little bit of everything. But what can you DO with that? And that brings me to the question of my motivation. If I’m doing school so I can DO something because of a degree, I’m not sure that’s the right reason either.
Work? Maybe. But doing what? I’m good at… well… cooking, cleaning, bandaging, driving, breaking up fights, laundry, yard work, and on and on. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last decade of my life, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go somewhere else to do the very same things. So to think that someone would want to hire me to actually use my BRAIN… that’s a little intimidating. That grey matter up there is out of practice and more than a little rusty. And then there’s the stress, of having to be somewhere and do well enough to be worth keeping around. And the worry of what to do with the kids if I have a job. School is out for the summer in just a few short weeks, and then it would have to be daycare. And then what is the point? Because then any money I make would go to paying the daycare, and I’d still have the meltdowns every night from at least one of them from being overstimulated all day long. Sure, I’d get away, but would it be worth it? I’m not so sure. I’ve thought of delivering newspapers, or sticking flyers on doors, or something along those lines, but there’s always the drawbacks of weather and time frame (i.e. 3 am isn’t exactly my favorite time to wake up…).
Volunteering? Maybe. I’ve done that before, with mixed results. Sometimes I enjoy it, sometimes it’s just another THING I’ve got to do. Something else I’m committed to doing, and sometimes it just doesn’t fit in to my schedule, especially given how often we are in and out of doctor’s offices and my carpool schedule for the kids.
And the underlying problem, in all of this, is the issue of my attention span/interest. I have this horrible tendency to jump into things, full speed ahead, giving 300%, and then to crash and burn right as I’ve invested myself (financially, emotionally, whatever) just enough to make it feel like a waste. I have seen myself do this SO much that I know it is a very high probability that whatever I get myself into will end similarly.
And so I am stuck. Stagnant, unable to decide, and feeling trapped and unfulfilled. There is the nagging worry of not ever being brave enough to step out of myself and actually DO something. But I wonder, so much, if having a purpose that gives me meaning and fulfillment would help with my exhaustion, depression, depletion, and general happiness level.
There’s a nagging voice that keeps telling me that I could be happy, if I would just do exactly that: BE happy. And to a degree, I think that voice has a point. But I’ve tried this gig for years, and I’m just not seeing myself finding the strength to be anything any more, least of all happy. You can only medicate so much of that away. So it’s time to look elsewhere, and see what I can find. But I’m scared. And finding all kinds of reasons why I shouldn’t try. And feeling guilty that I haven’t found joy and fulfillment in my current situation. But I have given it everything. So much, in fact, that I find myself 30 years old and I don’t even really know myself. My oldest chose my favorite color for me, when she was 3, because I had no opinion. And that is a trend I’m ready to stop. I want to know who I am, and what I think, and what I want. I want to find something that has meaning for me – lasting meaning. Something to draw out the person I’m sure I must be. Somewhere, somewhere hidden deep inside, there is a person, waiting to find the light. And I think maybe, just maybe, it is time to try. But my courage is small. And I may just talk myself out of this all together. I’ve done it before.