One of those days.

Some days are easier than others.

Easier to wake up with a bounce in your step. To see the bright side of things. To be the patient, loving mother you want to be. To be enthusiastic about your work. To type the words that need to be typed. To show up.

Some weeks are happier than others.

There’s no drama, no noise. The words come easily. So much is accomplished. It all seems to go your way, day after day. The pain has gone missing.

Some years are simpler than others.

It’s status quo. Everything is normal and fine. No one is sick or dying or having a nervous breakdown. There’s no real growth but there’s no real problems either. There’s space to breathe.

Theres a constant wish for those days, weeks, and years.

Tomorrow will be better.

Next week I’ll start over.

The new year will make it all go away.

But it’s the striving for what’s next that brings the pain. Feeling so unsettled with what is that nothing ever feels like it fits quite right. Including ourselves.

Can’t we all just stop trying to skip the shitty hard part? Why do we fear it so? I mean, besides the decades of programming to escape bad feelings at all cost. Oh that minor thing.

Why must we wait until our 40s, 50s, 60s, or more to finally start realizing that we don’t have to live that way anymore? First we realize, but then another decade or two or three to actually make progress on living a different way.

Is this the way it’s always been for us?

Is this the way it has to be for us?