Im only an amateur.
At writing, reading, I mean there are a million trillion realms which I have yet to delve into.
Amateur mom, wife, or I could just say an all encompassing “amateur adult”. I am, its true. I walk errantly through life with little glitches of “wow I really nailed that”, or “I actually know the answer to that!”
But that’s all they are, glitches. Little moments in my day of walking blind where I actually feel like I know something. And of course I take that tiny victory to the extreme and think that I’ve found my purpose in life, until the next task comes along and, like a swinging bolster, knocks me over into the pile of muck and mistakes that I’ve made and I lie there staring up at the ceiling with a blank look on my face and all my dreams whooshing away out of my ears.
Is it a bad thing? Who knows, really. I know I’m supposed to have that answer as it is MY life, but I don’t. I don’t have many answers to anything.
There are times where, if I were to ask myself that very question, I would scream a resounding “yes, it is a bad thing!” Claiming that it makes my life hard and dysfunctional. But only for that moment, because the next moment might come along and, again, if I was asked the very same question, I would quietly utter the words “I like it better this way.” And I would mean both things, very much so.
All I know is that I’m an emotional woman-child. My life is lead through feelings and on the rare occasion, facts.
I will turn left when heading right would clearly make more sense, just because I feel like it.
I will pause 30 more seconds before opening the front door to leave, because I feel like it.
I will write 17 drafts and then delete all of them, because I feel like it.
I will dance with my daughter in the middle of the produce section, because I feel like it.
And then by the time we reach the meat department, I will become a timid little bird, avoiding eye contact with everyone, because, well….I feel like it.
I will cry a pitiful, annoying, whimpery cry to my husband over nothing at all, because I feel like it.
But guess what? I think he still kind of likes me, and I still really like him. And we still really love our daughter, and we both seem to laugh more with each other than with anyone else. So, right now, I’m liking it better this way.