It's Christmas Day, and I am spending it at my parents' house, whom I have barely spoken to for three years until recently. Tomorrow I fly 'home,' to a house in shambles that is going into storage, and no resolute plan for the future. I found a woman with two kids, a workaholic husband, and extra space in her home, who is looking for company to craft, garden, and commune with. Alternately, I have the dreary and oppressively lonely possibility of a one-bedroom apartment for myself and the girls.
I am so lonely. Even with the love I know is directed my way, I feel heavy inside. Too heavy to burden those closest to me with it. I have light and life in me still, but I have to share it with my two daughters, who rely on me for everything, all the time. So few people concieve of how draining that reality is. I am blessed in that they are still young enough not to notice more than the basics. I have a business plan, that I am obsessively researching, and drawings and designs and art that I hope to market. I have enjoyed painting and drawing and creating with intention. I forgot that I am good at more than making other people happy.
I want peace. And I want to find it within myself and through my own toil, rather than through the abolishment of my pride and the acceptance of charity, no matter how well-meant(or gloating...).
This is the beginning of my newest life story. I am itching to launch my new life, with the best of intentions and every ounce of good energy I can direct towards it.
