I wanted to write yesterday. And the day before, and today. I barely made it through work. My anxiety was like a heavy cape around my shoulders. All these feelings of being completely useless invaded my brain. I am unhappy. Not in the sense of my life. Somewhere deep inside me, something is missing. I cannot put my finger on it or pinpoint it, but I feel incomplete.
Tonight I am forcing myself to write. We are making an apple cake, an old Norwegian recipe my husband found online. Warm and buttery. Crispy and sweet. When it came hot from the oven and I first tasted it I was momentarily taken away to high mountains, covered in snow. Trees howling with the wind. A warm fire in an ancient cabin. A lover back from hunting, a deep sigh of sleep when he came home.
Have I mentioned I want to travel? I dream of these foreign places so often. Pink sand and teal water. At heart, I am wandering, always wanting to get lost. My desk like a chain that keeps me planted in the reality of adulthood and all that is life. Bills, responsibility. Do I sound like a whiny millennial? I hate that word by the way. I want to breath icy cold air in Switzerland, swim in salty seas and climb green mountains.
Will I ever feel fulfilled in this life? I will always be asking, is there something more? Am I truly where I am meant to be? Is this dreamy imagination really my curse? Do other people feel this way as well? I have so many questions with no answers.
For now, I will be there in my mind and in my dreams. Thinking of the foods not yet tasted by my tongue and the air not yet smelled by my nose. I will see those faraway places in my sleep and wake up feeling just a bit more lonely than the night before.
Categories: Addiction, Anxiety, bipolar disorder, Depression, Gardening, Homeopathic Remedies, Infertility, Mental Health, OCD, Organization, Parenting, PCOS, Planting, Pregnancy, Self Esteem, self-care, Travel