Once upon a time, I lived alone; I lived in a one bedroom apartment by myself. My friend and I went shopping at Furniture Row where I opened up a credit card and bought dark wood furniture for all three of my rooms. It took six weeks for the furniture to come in, so until then, I slept on the floor. All I had brought with me from Washington to Nebraska was what would fit in my Saturn: books and clothes and a box of memories.
I had a tv, but no cable or bunny ears. I spent my time at work, and then came home, read my books, listened to music, and wrote. I cleaned the place frequently. It was small, and soon full of furniture, but it was my cozy little nook. The fridge was full of Mug root beer, bagels, and smoked turkey; the cupboards of pasta and Swiss cake rolls. It was meager living, but I was myself.
And now, I am still me, but I don’t always feel myself. I have a job that stresses me out, at times so much that I forget who I am. I am too conscientious now of money and how much things cost and that I’m not making enough or saving enough. At home, I work out, as to not gain as much weight as I’m consuming. Then I watch tv because it’s there and so am I and I don’t want to put the effort it takes into doing anything else.
There are things to do: cleaning is now a daylong project, not a fifteen minute chore. There are events I feel guilted into attending, even though I don’t want to. Even those things that are supposed to be fun, like a happy hour with the girls from work, sometimes feels exhausting because I just want to be at home by myself, with my iPod and a puzzle. I want to feel myself again.
Sometimes I feel completely myself for a moment, when I’m reading a book of poetry or listening to an older country song, but it’s the exception now. I feel like I’m constantly being poked and proded into a responsible adult. That’s not who I am. I am that person who doesn’t consider money and overdrafts her account. I’m that person that will spend three hours on a walk because I have no agenda. I was that person who drove an old beater car because it meant something to her.
I am losing myself in an endless cycle of alarm clocks, DVR recordings, and monthly budgets. I have become the responsible adult. But I long to feel myself – the girl who did what she wanted when she wanted and always felt at peace. Sure, it isn’t responsible or respectable at my age, but it was familiar territory.
You aren't alone. We all feel like that from time to time. Perhaps you could use a vacation or change of scenery/routine. In the meantime, know that this too shall come to pass. Have a great week!
We all feel like that some of us more then others, I can remember when I was first married and I could clean the flat and it stayed clean now days I clean and an hour later it looks like it hasn't been cleaned at all….
As I look around at the mess in my lounge room I wonder why is it that I am the only one who does anything…..
it does happen to us all and you have to learn to take a breath and do stuff you enjoy. Find fun in simple things again
holly, the other day i drove by the bank and tanning salon downtown that i went to while at grace. i cried. big ugle tears. i cried because i loved being able to go tan in the middle of the afternoon, just because i wanted to. i cried because it reminded me of the days spent in my dorm room, listening to music and writing. i cried because i can't just go tan in the middle of the afternooon anymore. i cried because i don't have time to follow music, and writing is all but lost. i cried, because i too feel like i have lost me in growing up.
love you. miss you. someday life will slow down, and we can sit on my deck and drink wine and catch up. i am waiting for the day.