Confused

Sometimes I wonder if challenges are placed in front of me for a reason.

I know that many people before me have wondered the same thing. Perhaps those with faith are more familiar with these feelings. I don't know. I am not a religious person, but I have spiritual ideas sometimes.

Perhaps it is like being in a giant maze. When we keep insisting on going down the "wrong" passageway, a wall is put up again and again, blocking us from moving forward, until we realize we have no other choice but to turn, one way or another.

My body hurts from hitting the walls.

My job at the moment is raising my children. And I work on it, day in, and day out, and sometimes during the night. I work hard. I allow myself little room for selfishness. I am trying, really trying, to be a good mother to my children. One has a real anxiety issue. It effects everything we all do, day after day after day. As with any "dis" ability I do my best to help her navigate these waters. And it's not easy. She hits those maze walls so much more often than the rest of us seem to. But she bounces back and tries again. And again. And again. So while I rub my bruises, I try to rub hers. To get in the way so she doesn't hit so often. To help her understand the need to regroup and set out again. And to go easy on herself. Add to that our little guy, who charges ahead in the maze, finds others along the way who want to and are willing to help him navigate his way, panics, and runs back to me and DD. And back, and forth... "Mama do it!" So to all of this bouncing and running and turning around in circles add DH, who jumps in every now and then, attempts to help with something, gets a double dose of Mama-do-it, gets frustrated, and flares up... and you've got the basic foundation of my every day life. It's like a dance. And it's all good. It's what I do!

So I try, like anyone, to find outlets. Things to help me recharge, so that I can go back in the ring with gusto. But for reasons I don't understand, the outlets I choose turn in to maze walls.

I want FRIENDS. This is the most confusing part of my current and recent life that I just don't understand. Don't get me wrong. I have some people. And some who genuinely show an interest in seeing me more than once a month. Ok, one. And that is nice, and I am most grateful. But I want more. I want to be part of the neighborhood bunch. There are a huge amount of families with small kids in the neighborhood, and so many of them are friends. Good friends. Why not me? It's not as if I'm not out there trying. In my capacity. No, I don't go out at night right now. And it's likely I won't for a while. No, I don't have a lot of time away from my children. But true friends don't care, they find time to be with you. I tried for months and months to invite people over for play dates. Every week. Sometimes twice a week. Some tried. But it got to the point where more often than not, no one came. And that depressed me, so I stopped inviting. The other day I took DS to a neighborhood play date, and there was a houseful. A HOUSEFUL. Just like that. Maybe it's because we don't go to the public schools. But that's not enough reason. Maybe it's because I'm shy. Maybemaybemaybe. The result is that I'm not IN.

I have found that my most peaceful time is my one hour a day that I spend alone. And that is not me. Not the happy, well-balanced me. But right now, my recharge time is spent along, in my basement, sewing. And I truly love it. I do. But the genuine me doesn't want an escape. So what's this about?

And I worry. For all the hard work that I feel that I do, day in and day out, I am given more to try to figure out. A relationship that has always come easily, with few bumps, is now much more confusing, painful, and filled with cracks. What does it mean? So I hide in my "work" and hope that things straighten themselves out.

And I worry about my father, who turns 90 in March. I think about him all the time. But to complicate even that, our relationship is odd. Not bad. It's good! He champions me more than anyone else in the world, and I him. But it's odd. And confusing. But he helps me to feel better about myself. Without many words, he just has a way of gently encouraging me to be better to myself. He tells me to be more selfish. Because I'm worth it. That's nice. That's really nice. I need someone to help me feel important. The others, family, are too far away to be involved in my life. I sometimes think, lately, of what it would be like to live near the others. Would I feel better? Probably. Why can't I create that for myself here?

So I feel burdened, and I feel that life is zooming by, and I feel that I'm missing something. And I don't know how to change it. And I wonder what the message is. What am I supposed to be doing? How do I achieve the balance I so badly yearn for? Am I supposed to stop seeking, and turn inward? Find peace in what I have and stop trying for something else? Why do I hurt? Why do I continue to want things I don't have? Isn't what I have good enough? I don't understand.