I am blogging with a purpose. It has been staring at me the whole time. I write becsuse it creates a space for me. I write because by doing so it seems to give my life more meaning – like a narrator of story, i can reflect on and provide meaning to my life when it feels meaningless. When i feel meaningless. It really is a spaghetti bowl of emotions – all tsngled up, one feeling thatl eacs to another – all tied in
I feel trapped in so many ways – I love her so much and yet it is such a relief in some ways that someone else gets to take care of her. I feel relief that the budern of her care is not just mine. And yet – she won’t be cared for by anyone else more than I? Isn’t that what they say? Is thar even true? If I don’t care fir her than who will? And yet I get so bored – I get so so bored doing just what she wants. Its a relief to leave and so my own thing for a while. Its a relief to be just myself. But what am I doing with myself? What value is there? What am I acheiving?
I miss the ocean. I miss the connection with nature. It is so much harder to form that space for calm