Tag Archives: daydreams

this is why i’m in therapy folks

25 Jul

Texts this morning from yet another friend who is struggling for different reasons. Sometimes people are incredibly mean, closed minded, and heartless in their well-meaning-ness, if that makes any sense. I know life is difficult and there are struggles to be had. Its not all peachy keen, hunky dory, sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, but I really don’t think it should be THIS hard for some people to find happiness. Sue me.

I had a bit of clarity last night. Something obvious that I hadn’t thought of in this particular way I guess. Not that it was all that helpful but more, interesting. I do this thing where I put different scenarios in my head and daydream about “test driving” them to see if that’s the ticket to contentment and fulfillment and all that crap. Like….Oh, I wonder if I’d be happy being a hobo travel writer? Or, maybe I’ll try teaching English in Thailand…how about waiting tables at a Parisian sidewalk cafe and I’ll live in a dumpy hipster flat in Montmartre. Etc etc. I’m a hopeless dreamer and while a nice mental escape, when you have to let reality hit you in the face, it can be quite the downer if you let it. Which I am an expert at doing.

So I realized that I don’t have to stress over exactly WHAT it is that I want/need, I just need the flexibility and freedom to SEARCH for it. That’s it. Flexibility and freedom. What’s that thing Emerson said about life being a journey and not a destination? That. The problem with my little bout of clarity is the fact that I don’t really have a plan to go about getting the flexibility/freedom for all my wanderings. Then you have to think about money and bills and responsibilities, yada yada yada. So you throw up your hands and say screw it, hand me a third cupcake and yes, we can watch Tangled for the millionth time after I empty the dishwasher. The moral of the story is…being a responsible adult can be frustrating and suffocating for some of us.

Life is short and the world is wide (Simon Raven). And I’m freaking out that I’m missing it. I want to do things, see things. Bigger things. Enter obligatory disclaimer…not that the life I have is bad, not that the life I have isn’t full of good and beautiful things and people….but, there’s much more out there that I’m missing. I know you can’t do everything but….grrrrr. You can’t live wishing you’d done this or that but I do it all the time. I should’ve joined the Peace Corps, I should’ve studied abroad, I should’ve bungee jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, etc. No, I do not care about doing the damn laundry, can’t you see I’m busy hiking the Alps in my brain!!?!?!

Something is seriously wrong with me.

And this has turned into a rather depressing post and I really didn’t mean for it to.

Meh.

staring

15 Jul

It has not been the best of weekends. Kiddo got violently ill on the way home Thursday, requiring an impromptu pit stop along the interstate to clean her up best I could and get home asap. It was gross and pitiful and made me cry when she stared at me with her little lip quivering and said “mommy, will you take care of me?”. I stayed home with her on Friday and she steadily felt better as the weekend progressed. The Accountant then came down with a sinus infection and has been pretty miserable as well. So far I’ve dodged any sort of plague but I can’t help but feel that some sort of malady is hanging over my head just waiting to strike.

At the risk of sounding petty and selfish, I’ve felt very confined the past few days. Its nice to feel so needed but I’m suffocating. The air in the house has felt heavy and burdensome and my space violated. I would die for my family and taking care of my child, sick or not, is always my top priority but lets be honest, I’d also give up sweets for a month for one weekend of solitude in a nice hotel room. I simply cannot breathe.

A bit of respite came tonight with the timely offer of a babysitter. The Accountant and I seized the opportunity and went out for a nice dinner and a long meander through the local bookstore.  We parted ways in the bookstore as we tend to do, him to books about motorcycles and computers, me to fiction and travel.

In the travel section I just stood and stared for a while at the colorful array teasing me with the names of countries I’ll never go to, cities I only dream about. I ran an index finger along the spines of the section on Europe and recalled that trip of a lifetime that is always floating around in my head waiting to be recalled when I lapse into my frequent hobo daydreams.

Hubs and I talked about a return trip to Paris that we are planning for our 15th anniversary in a couple of years and that was nice. I realize how fortunate I am to even be discussing that as a real possibility. I cling to hope of that trip like some sort of lifeline. I think about going back there and immersing myself in a place so different from where I am, so alive and beautiful, and I catch my breath.  I remember wandering the streets of Paris at night with hubs years ago and I vividly recall the sounds of the clinking of dishes in the sidewalk cafes and the lulling cadence of conversations in French. I didn’t understand a word and it didn’t matter. It was lovely and surreal and dreamlike and I desperately want it back.

Blame it on my escapist nature I suppose but I sometimes wonder if Paris represents something bigger in my mind, something other than simply a magical City of Light. An ideal of sorts, an idyllic dream of freedom from daily routine and responsibility. I know that I often indulge in fantasies of travel. I am not here in this small southern town. I am in Rome, and then Venice. Barcelona will be next or maybe Amsterdam. It doesn’t matter. I want to explore all of it.

I want so many things. Intangible things. The freedom to simply…experience.

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