I am tired tonight and don't want to write a list. I wonder why I ever started. Sometimes I want to stop and sometimes I never want to stop. I am still slaying a dragon who told me once that I don't follow through.
I sort of hate the phrase slaying a dragon. I love dragons.
still I am haunted by anyone thinking that I am flaky or that I am a quitter.
The truth is that I am spent most of my life trying to prove myself. Last night I heard someone say, "the truth is that there is nothing to prove" I wish I could believe that.
A hundred people, a thousand people, a million people could tell me that I have nothing to prove and I will still be trying to prove it to myself. and until this very moment, I thought I believed in myself.
The truth is that I talk a good and practiced game. Maybe most of us do.
Admitting how hard this is feels impossible. I've been waking up each day and picking up the pieces and going on as "normally" as I can. We all have. And I don't how or why. It certainly feels like grief should destroy us. Sometimes it certainly feels like I wish it would.
I live in the dichotomy of everything matters and nothing matters, everything is important and nothing is important. Being how I've always been feels like too much and not enough. That part is not new but now it is imbued with a particular frustration that is hard to define.
No one would fault me for crawling into my hole and staying there for awhile, digging into a hibernation that i didn't allow myself during the winter months. No one would fault me but myself.