I haven't written much lately. I haven't read either. Well I have just not the Noonday Demons book or the Courage to Heal book. I have felt uncomfortable in my own skin which is pretty much an everyday thing but the last few days it's been worse than usual. For whatever reason these days come and go. There is no explanation for their arrival and I never know how long they will be. They just come. Play with my so called life and when they get bored, they leave. I am just a toy for them.
I have been extremely aggitated the last few days. Pissed off at the air for being air. For filling my lungs. For blowing my hair. For touching me. I just wanted to be alone, but everywhere I went someone was there even if it was only me. It pissed me off. Days like the last few days, I hate my life, and feel as if I want a different one, but have no energy, want, or desire enough to actually change my life. Except that I don't really want a DIFFERENT life. It's just a fleeting moment where I suddenly decide "ugh fuck it and throw it all away". Then five minutes after I go WTF did I do I want it back. Which totally confuses the hell out of anyone in a five mile radius of me.
During days like these, Jigger often asks "What do you want?!" . Therein lies the problem. I don't know what I want. I just want. Something. If Jigger didn't hold me so tightly and tie me in my spot, this would be the moment I run. Whenever I start to feel antsy, whenever I start to feel like I am the puppet and everyone is attaching a string to pull me in whichever direction they choose, that is when I cut the strings and run.
I know part of this is that my life is not the life I want. It is not the life that I envisioned myself having, but it is the life I have. It isn't that horrible. I have a home which a lot of people don't. I eat everyday when many around me are hungry. I have a husband who loves me and does his best to navigate the insanity that is my world. I don't have a whole lot to complain about, but never the less, this is not the life I dreamed of having. It isn't me. Not that I know what "me" is, but I know what "me" isn't. I feel trapped when all I want is to be FREE. I have no idea what it is I want to be FREE from. All I know is I feel like a bird with a broken wing staring at the night's sky, dreaming of the day when I am able to soar.