This is my brain talking, so sometimes what comes from my typing doesn’t make sense. I decided to take my restlessness the past couple of days and write it down to try to cypher what the missing puzzle pieces are.
After the initial shock wore off and months have gone by since my brother’s passing; I feel lost or maybe I feel I have no purpose any longer. I laid in bed last evening so restless, unable to slow my brain down.
I was wishing and worrying about life. The more I told myself worrying bears no fruit, the more I worried. I worried about some big financial problems that are going to be facing me straight on today.
I wished I had a partner in my life so money didn’t weigh so heavily on my chest. I felt so alone last night. I was thinking about how many people I do not know in this small town; but also realized that the only contact I make with the living are my family and elderly people I take care of.
I hate it that when it comes time to go to work, I want to run the other way. So many times since Al passed, I want to mentally vomit, when it is time to take care of yet another human that can’t do it for themselves. The next thing I do is kick myself mentally for thinking that way. It is not the patient’s fault they need help.
I have seen my blog go down steadily, and yet pick-up new followers. This is probably due to trying out the waters in other areas of writing. Yet on the other hand, sometimes I feel something nagging at me to give it up. It feels like someone is telling me I served the purpose of writing while Al was here, now let it rest; he is gone.
I think I feel lost in life. I feel that no one really knows me but my family. I wanted to teach about MSA but have never seen a door of opportunity open for that. A part of me hates me for thinking I have to be noticed, and once again I give that up to my upbringing as a child.
I spent days, weeks and many months trying to prove to my family that I was worthy of a good comment, or a pat on the back. Here, once again, I am searching for something again. It is ridiculous when I think about it. I don’t need any acknowledgment, God made me the way he wanted.
And yet, here I sit, feeling lost. How can someone at 60 years old feel lost? It is the purpose, that drives me insane. I have no purpose. I exist. I work some hours per week. I hate it that I can’t work more due to my Diabetes, and yet I buck at the idea when it is time to go to work.
I work at trying to search for a job. I pray about it, that a job that is good for me shows itself. I tidy up the house. I check the mailbox each day and pay the bills when they arrive. How much fun is that?
Is life supposed to be fun? Well at times I believe it is. Sometimes I can picture myself sitting here in front of the TV, waiting for nothing. That is a morbid thought and I don’t like it.
Well I let my brain get those thoughts out and yet I find no peace in what I wrote. I don’t know what the problem is, I just know there is a problem.