Sometime early on in my life I think I was bitten by the “angst bug.” It left a welt on my spirit that’s been itching me ever since and I can’t seem to get any relief from it. I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t looking beyond where I was right then only to ogle the place where I wanted to be.
When I was ten, I wanted to be 13. At 13 I wanted to be 16. At sixteen, 21 and so on. Single, I wanted to be married. Married, I couldn’t wait to be a mother. And as a mother I ran this same tape in my head as my children grew. I kept saying things like: “When he starts to sleep through the night, I’ll really enjoy this parenthood thing.” “When he starts to walk (or talk or be potty trained or start school) then I’ll be where I want to be in my life.” But somehow that place never came. There was always one more plateau that I needed to reach before contentment could truly kick in.
I guess everyone has some of the same feelings from time to time. It even might be called ambition – which is a good thing. I mean, we’re built and programmed to succeed, right? Ambitious thoughts followed up with aggressive pursuits are taught and revered. I get that. But when life is never satisfying for always waiting for the next mile marker to arrive, I think it’s time to stop and try to find out the problem or discover if it even is a problem. I’ve been wondering: Do I have an evil restless spirit that needs to be tamed? Is my angst robbing me of the joy of the moment?
So, this blog is for me. I need this. I need to ask those questions and find some answers. If you’d like to join me on this search, by all means come along.
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