A friend of mine bought me a great gift for my last birthday. The birthday that literally threw me into this midlife thing I’ve got going on right now. The birthday that passed almost a year ago. Which means, another is coming up. I suppose I’ll handle this one better. Maybe.
It’s not “getting older” that bothers me. It’s that I feel like I’m losing time to achieve the things I want to achieve. I feel trapped by responsibilities. Yet what would I do anyway? I mean, what is it in me, that keeps me from just doing what I want to do. Even the simple things like heading out to take pictures on my day off. Exploring my own city. Little things. Why don’t I just do it?
Lately so many things bother me. I have no tolerance and I’m easily frustrated. At work, I have a kid that loses it over every little thing. I admire him. I admire the fact that he can still get away with doing what I want to do a lot of, lately. I even asked him one day what he thought it would look like if I started screaming, and ran out of the room. He told me I shouldn’t do that. Dammit. SO, that’s not an option. Even a four year old knows adults don’t do that.
Back to the gift from my friend. She knows I love to write. She bought me two small books. One is full of small writing assignments, and the other is called “I Can’t Sleep.” I haven’t used this one. Every time I open it up, I see the introduction on the top of each page “Why I can’t sleep tonight:” I look at it, I give a small laugh, and every single time I think… “I can’t sleep tonight because… well… my life.” Seriously, it’s nothing specific. It’s everything and nothing at all. My current life status isn’t awful, it’s frustrating. Especially when I work so hard on being more of a silent observer, and not speaking my mind. That’s hard for me, people! Those around me probably don’t see me in that light, but if they only knew my brain. It turns over every little conversation. Every single frustration. Every thing that makes me crazy. Everything that I cannot resolve with words, because people would either be offended, or won’t “hear” me. I’d not be able to get my message across as eloquently as I would need to, if I were to speak my mind.
Every single minute of every single day = My brain before bed.
So, why can’t I sleep?