The post that had a name, but now doesn't because it doesn't match what I wrote

I am coming out of the year from hell. This is not an exaggeration. This year, I nearly lost one of the dearest things to me in the entire world. This year was harder on me than finding out my little daughter had Smith-Magenis Syndrome.  This year was a year of internal changes that has completely and utterly changed the way I look at the world. This year has drained me physically, emotionally, and mentally more than I thought possible. This year required strength that I did not think I had available to me. This year? Was shit.

But I’m coming out of it now, stronger and – I don’t think – all that much worse for wear. And through it all, I still had SMS and parenting and life to deal with. I don’t know how well I really did with it all, but I have survived. And life is better now. Mostly.

SMS, doesn’t feel like the worst thing in my life these days. It will again, I know. The kids are dealing with anxiety and other mental health issues. There are seizures now that have started up this year with one of my kids… we’re trying to get to the bottom of that.

I have lost 40 pounds. I feel still inextricably fat and out of shape. Too large for my body… and yet, often completely comfortable with myself. Grateful for the things I can do. I dislocated my shoulder this winter. My arm still hurts sometimes. It’s not back to normal… It probably never will be. I have plans to try to get into better shape. Plans that may or may not pan out… but the intention is there, and for that I am glad, because at least I have the mental energy to care. A little bit. Enough to do something about it, but not enough to beat myself up if it doesn’t happen.

I started a part time job, which has been easier to fit into my life than I’d suspected. I’m trying to get my graphic design business off the ground. And by trying, I mean that I spend a lot of time thinking about what I should do and have spurts of energy where I actually begin the process of doing something, and then I stop and then just feel frustrated that the only way I’m getting clients right now is through word of mouth. And wishing that I made more money at my chosen career and was able to make it work for me so that I can be there for my kids – especially my SMSer – and still contribute to the family coffers in a significant way that doesn’t just support my wine habit.

All of these things… my health, my kids, my marriage, my career… I want to throw my entire self into each of these. I want to be the very best at everything that I do and everything that I am.

I want to be able to run a marathon and look the way I want to look and wear the clothes I want to wear and eat healthy without struggling with it.

I want to be the most awesome parent for my kids and help them with their own struggles and be there to help with homework and figure out a way to raise money for SMS research and be a good advocate for my kids in school and help my kids be the best people they can be.

I want to be the spouse my husband needs and support him in the way he needs supporting. And to stay married.

I want to be successful and respected for my work and make enough money so that we can pay down some debt and so that we have choices and so that we can make sure my boys can go to the schools they want and my daughter can be in a high quality assisted living situation where she’s safe and I want to travel and finish the renos on my house.

I want to get some hobbies again. I want to get lost in a novel, to knit some beautiful projects with gorgeous yarns that I see online, to paint and play with colours. I miss getting lost in creativity. I want to do that again.

I want. I want. I want.

None of these are particularly ridiculous wants, I don’t think. And I hold onto each one of these wants loosely, because if I care too much, I get overwhelmed and shut down and do nothing. I pace in my house. I play stupid games on my phone. I scroll thoughtlessly through Facebook again, and again, and again. The books are sitting right there to read. My kids are in the next room being ignored or refereed as needed. My paints sit on top of the fridge, unopened. My treadmill collects dust, the running apps unused, the running path a block from my house never sees me. The vegetables in the fridge rot. My computer grows cold as I – yet again – do not open Adobe Suite and use the skills I know I have. I pour a glass of wine and turn on Netflix and tune out.

Is my desire simply not strong enough? Am I still struggling with depression/anxiety? Am I simply overwhelmed by the responsibilities in my life? Is my perfectionism getting in the way? How do I find inspiration? How can I find balance?

I’m not sure that balance is possible for me right now. Maybe it could be… with schedules and discipline. I shudder at the thought.

And this is where I’m at a loss for what to say in this long, wordy post. Because I feel like I put my bare minimum into everything and that it’s not enough to fulfill who and what I want to be. But that minimum is the absolute most I’m even able to give. I’ve played around with changing my goals. Expect less from myself. Put all my energy into just one thing. But that leaves me feeling unhappy and unfulfilled. For while I love the things I HAVE to do… they’re simply not enough. I want more. I need more. I’m just not sure how to drag my sorry ass there.

Right now I’m being patient. Pondering. Watching. Trying to keep up with what I’ve started. That seems to be my process. And when the answer finally comes to me, it’s good. I hope the answer comes to me. I hope I can figure out… in my middle age… who and what I can and should be. It feels late, but I know it’s not.

I hope.