Settled into Existence?

I don’t know what it is lately.  Maybe it’s Big Red, stirring up a bunch of crap that should have been left beneath the dust or worse, maybe I’m pregnant; but I am just incredibly emotional these last few days.  Any time it’s quiet my mind wanders off and there are tears in my eyes.  By the time tears start rolling, it’s like I wake up and I don’t remember what made me cry.  I feel so sad and I don’t know why.  People say

It’s like a weight on my chest

I don’t quite feel that way.  It feels like a weight inside my chest and it’s pulling me inward; like whatever it is wants me to cave in on myself.  I’m not really sure why.  I’ve never felt like this except…except right after my stroke.  I feel like I am in mourning all over again only this time I don’t know what died, what did I lose? Nothing much has really happened when I started to feel this way.

I feel like writing a poem

   I haven’t wanted to write a poem since high school! What is going on?  Is this a part of the aging process or something?  That is kind of what this feels like.  Another one of those days where I am losing one more thread of youth.  I did find three silver hairs a week or two ago. I keep trying to embrace them…it’s not working out.  I don’t cover them up or hide them anymore, I just leave them be but sometimes when I see one in the mirror threading through my hair I am reminded of how much I’ve changed in the last decade.  It sucks.  Maybe this is why they call it dirty thirty? I feel like all of my youth is rising up to the surface and exposing all the dirt I kept holding sacred for no real reason other than being afraid to let go.
Is aging like a phone dump?  You know, when you bust out the cord to connect your phone to your laptop, or go through the trouble of digging your memory card out of your phone so you can empty it out into your laptop?  Phases of memory dumps, that’s aging.  Every now and then your mind is just showing a marathon in your head and soon you’re Chevy Chase in the attic of your past:tumblr_mvzd9oas151su0bbho1_1280

Nobody wants to be Chevy Chase, trapped in a cold room wearing a robe and pink gloves, crying at how things used to be when everyone, especially yourself, was so much younger.  It doesn’t even seem to be about getting or being old but more about no longer being young.  You can’t be stupid, you can’t be careless and you can’t be naive.  Life is no longer fun when you’re no longer able to be foolishly spontaneous and dangerously curious.  Life is and can still be fun, yeah, sure.  I have kids, I expect a lot of fun memories with them in my future.  After all, who else is supposed to help them gain awesome childhood memories of their own?
Life is not at all what I expected.  Being an adult is as horrible as my mom always said.  I don’t know how other adults feel, or how they even get through it.  I sometimes wish I could be one of those mindless people who just…exists.  Those people seem so cluelessly content.  They don’t witness ripple effects whether it’s one they started or one they are being affected by.  They don’t have memories that bother them, they aren’t restricted by anything other than their allowance.  These people just are, how do you get like that?

   Sometimes I look at my husband and I am so entirely, wholly grateful for him.  He’s one of those rare guys that you don’t come across too often.  He’s quiet, respectable and content with what he has.  He doesn’t wish for more but there are so many flaws within that simplicity that is him that there are times that I look at him and wonder cautiously if I settled.  He lets me be who I am, doesn’t actively try to change me but says I make him miserable.  I refuse to change myself.  It’s one thing to alter to compromise but to change an actual part of myself?  I think that is unfair to ask of practically anybody.  I don’t ask him to change.  Ok, I asked him to please, for the love of God, develop the habit to brush your teeth more often but I don’t think that is unreasonable.  Besides, he didn’t so I just stopped talking close and kissing him.  And I miss kissing.  It was always one of my favorite things about being with a man.  I guess I sacrificed that? I don’t know what I’m doing.  I don’t know what I am thinking about.  I should count my blessings.  I have two beautiful boys and their father has stuck by me even when he’s had plenty of reason and opportunity to bail.  Life would be so much easier if it came with a walk-through guide.   Where did I make the big mistake?

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