I'd been struggling for weeks it seems to write something profound or interesting or useful or inspiring. But I had nothing, and that sort of bummed me out. I could be doing more with my life. I should be doing more with my life. I should take myself seriously as a writer. I should try to write something real other than a blog, like a book. I should try to write and publish things for money. That's a hell of a lot of shoulds. I should have a better life. I should do more with my life. I should be contributing to the family income. I should live my dreams. I should be doing what I want in life. I should create a better life for myself.
Then it dawned on me today: I've got a pretty damn good life. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. And maybe I don't want to work that hard, meaning, I don't want to work as hard as it would require to be a writer of published works, like several of my friends are doing. Maybe I don't want that. Maybe I don't care if I ever publish a book. Maybe that lifelong dream wasn't actually what I really aspired to.
Maybe I simply aspired to be exactly what I am. A good mother and a domestic goddess. Maybe having ME/CFS is a gift because I can't work. I don't want to be sick, I want to be healthy. But even if I became healed I'd probably want to continue living mostly as I'm living. The worst part of it is boredom, loneliness, and frustration, but they are all short-lived. Oh, and the horrid symptoms, which are not short-lived. I love my life, and I'm extremely blessed to have it.
I'm glad and grateful any time I can help another or inspire another. This goes for every part of my life. Even making eye contact and smiling at people wherever I go. And I aspire to be a kinder person, because, as the wise song says, "In the end, only kindness matters." ~ Jewel
For some reason while I was watching HBOs "The Night Of" I was suddenly compelled to pause it and write this.