essay · fractured

dichotomies of life

Sometimes I have a difficult time staying happy. Sometimes I am really happy and I feel blessed and life is so very good. And then other moments, I feel like I’m falling into a hole of melancholy where nothing seems quite right.

Some of this is related to being a mother. It’s emotionally draining. And there is a constant battle of being unfulfilled on one side and feeling immense guilt on the other. I want to do my own projects, to create and learn on my own, but I end up feeling guilty for not doing enough for my kids.

And add in the regular isolation that happens as a mother. I am a little bit more isolated than a lot of people, as I live over a half hour away from any other family. I want to feel a part of something, and a lot of times I just end up doing it all by myself. Then when I’m around people, sometimes it’s gets exhausting and I just want to go home.

I have a lot going on and I feel incredibly busy in some moments, but then in other moments I have absolutely nothing to do and hours to fill.

Sometimes I just want stability, but that isn’t life. I hate things and I love them, often at the same time.

The only thing to do is to keep trying. But that’s enough. Trying is enough. Because the day starts over and over again, and no matter how many difficult moments there are, I know there is still happiness ahead.

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