I’m anxious. The last two days I have pushed myself through everything that I had planned. I woke up, feeling like I could never make it through the day. I did, I got up, forced myself through the negative feelings and had good days.
Sometimes the good felt forced. I was having a good time, but in the back of my mind, the anxiety waited, ready to strike, keeping me in a constant state of worry, dampening the positive feelings. I don’t regret getting moving, I had an amazing day with family and then an amazing day with friends at the beach and did something awesome with my hair.
This morning, though, I’m lacking the energy or motivation to push through. I want to want to be productive. I want to be that mom that gets up, cleans, gets my homework done, makes my husband lunch, has some time to read, does something fun with my daughter, and enjoys my day. In reality, I don’t really want to do anything. I want to lay here, stare at the ceiling, and wonder about these feelings.
These feelings, the weight in my chest holding me down, need to be screamed out, cried out, let go.
The dueling ambitions in my head are preventing this from happening, though. There is the person that I desperately want to be, and the person that I feel capable of being right now.
It is paralyzing me. The paradox inside of my head.