I’m getting that weird restless feeling. Again. A nagging. The simultaneous longing for things to be different and the fear that things will change too fast.
This happens. It’s my anxiety. It’s the result of living in a kind of limbo for the past 10 months. It’s the product of relentless positivity in the face of repeated rejection. It’s because I worry about our finances. I worry about the pressure on my husband to be the sole breadwinner. I worry about finding what’s next for me and making sure that what’s next for me is what’s best for everyone.
Tip of the iceberg. The weight of the world, it would seem.
And I don’t really talk about it. My adult conversations are about kids, about household or family maintenance, about PTA events, or about interviews. Sometimes, when I am alone I want to scream and other times I just want to draw the blinds and tuck in.
It feels good committing those feelings to print but I’m left with the question “What do I do with it all?”