I'm a bit melancholy today. I get that way when I have too much idle time on my hands, as I do this day. I feel myself wanting to wish my life into something more than it is, to rise above those feelings of mediocrity that choose to hang out with me this morning.
A good movie, workout in the gardens, or a cat on my lap will break this spell, but for now as I'm taking a break from working on the layout of my cluttered workroom and putting together the babies breakfasts before they begin to eye me as vittles, I'm just a little blue as my life crawls before my eyes in all its mediocre ways.
Raised to get married and depend on a husband, I feel like I've spent a lifetime trying to pry off those shackles of limitations. I attract what I am, and have set my family's heads spinning with the number of husbands that have come and gone; husbands that I had hoped would be salvation, but of course never were.
I had one year of college accomplished, a degree was to be my meal ticket to better days; but life has a way of throwing nuts and bolts into the works, and the support was never there with the ones I aligned myself with.
My home seems so little, and way too small for pets, but it is my home. The front porch is a quiet place to sit and watch the neighborhood surrounding me slowly fading into deterioration.
I like wood furniture, but I've settled for metal, glass, particleboard and a few very nice pieces, only a few.
Children would have been nice, but my picks of spouses were ones already with children living elsewhere; and their unkind past tense spouses were excruciating footnotes in my life.
I have a tiny book, a present, with the tiny letters Acceptance imprinted on the cover. I grumbled a bit when I opened that postal package...I grumbled about what a crap present it was, and stuck it on a shelf out of sight in my closet. To me it was a negative word, the equivalent of giving up, a big time loser word...I hated it. It meant living in denial to have that feeling of perfection I craved, and we all know denial is imperfection at its max.
Then I was given a little secret of enlightenment, as I lightened my pocket book in therapy. The more I say something, the more I think it, and the more I think it, the more I believe it, and the more I believe it, the more it becomes my life...so I'm reminding myself again this morning; this morning that's dragging on forever and ever, that I really do have a life that's been worth living, even though it's been riddled with all those imperfections.
I did find that tiny book hidden away in my closet, with those tiny letters Acceptance imprinted on the cover. That little book of short quotes that seem quite positive after all, and I'm on my way back to my workroom right now to read a few more pages from it again.