Blogs

So, I love blogs.  I love to read them, to hear about the lives of other women – some that I know and love, and some whom I’ve never met.

Lately, though, I find myself turning away from those blogs with nothing but resentment.  How many times can I read about how awesome your children are?  Or how fulfilling your life is in every possible way?

Oh, you’re over the moon about your decision to become a SAHM?  Lovely!  You’ve found a new recipe/scheduling/homeschooling strategy/travel destination/photography skill that has absolutely revolutionized your world, and everyone simply must have it too?  Great.  I’ll get right on that.

Even reading the honest blogs – the ones that reveal struggles with motherhood or weight loss or being a minister’s wife – is painful.  Why?  I’m envious.  Difficult as it is, even they are living their dreams, doing something that matters.

I’m stuck, you see.  Stuck in the same pattern of days I’ve lived for the past several years, with no change in sight.

Get up.
Get ready.
Drive to work.
Sit at my desk for 9-12 hours.
Drive home.
Make dinner.
Go to bed.

Rinse, lather, repeat.  Over, and over again.

How is this life?  My dreams aren’t even remotely reflected in that list.  I barely manage to get bills, laundry and cleaning in there.

Even worse are the real-life encounters.  “What did you do this weekend/last night?”  Not too much, you? (Nothing of import – maybe a bit of cleaning – another wasted, pointless day.)  “When are you guys going to have kids?”  I’m not sure; someday, I hope. (Um, I have no idea.  I thought we’d have two by now.)  “Where do you find joy in life?”  In God, in family, in friends. (Ha!  Joy?  I’m just trying not to drown.)

I realize I sound completely depressed in most (all?) my posts here, but please understand something.  This is the only place where I can express things like this.  If anyone reads this, they likely don’t know my name.  I’m not a Debbie Downer every moment of every day, though it certainly has been more often than not, lately.

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