It's 5 AM. I roll to my right and see my husband snoring, probably dreaming of numbers that he will later bet on - because, you know, when the dreamweaving gods/creatures/spirits/whatever give you numbers in your sleep, you bet on them! I condemn those who don't know this for a fact.
I carefully consider my current situation. Is this the man I had envisioned myself marrying? Hmm. Well, when I was a kid, I had planned on getting married at 25 - that is AFTER I've bought my own home, my own car, and have accumulated a big, fat savings account. I was supposed to marry someone who was a) tall, b) dark, and c) had lots of money. No, I didn't care much for handsomeness.
My husband? He's tall and dark, all right - and not very handsome too. 2 out of 3. Not bad, huh? And I got to stand by my principle of not caring much for the outward appearance. I did a fairly good job, if I were to judge. Hey! Look at me talk as if I'm Angelina Jolie! CHOOSY.
I slowly get out of bed, lest I wake him up. He gets cranky the entire day when his slumber is disturbed. Wouldn't want that to happen! NOPE.
My son sleeps on a separate mattress on the floor, so I'm careful with my steps. I look at his face, some liquid dripping off the side of his lips. Yes, saliva. LAWAY: the telltale sign of REM sleep - in my family's case, that is.
He looks so peaceful, so quiet - until he wakes up and goes on full beast mode. Sugar rush? Probably. I should really remember to cut him off chocolates and carbonated drinks. I wish I had his endless reserve of energy. I need it to endure the painful reality of living life as an adult.
I sneeze. My son moves. I must have woken him up. But he only turns to his left, switching positions so the other side of the pillow can have a taste of the liquid gold coming out of his mouth too. How considerate of him.
Down I go into the kitchen to get my first cup of coffee. First of many, yes. I try my best not to think about what I need to accomplish for the day - but my mind is always on overdrive. My brain is a big, never-ending to-do list.
So what's on the menu today? I ask myself. Not much, I suppose.
- Drink coffee
- Check emails
- Segregate laundry (malata vs di malata)
- Be an effective, productive person like you're supposed to be
- Carefully curate social media status/presence/whatever
- Go to bed and question your existence
You see, there are days when I feel lost, inadequate, unsure. I often find myself lying in the dark, asking myself, "What the f*ck am I doing? Where the f*ck am I going?"
I don't know how I got here. All I know is that I'm here. There are so many rules in life. Why does it have to have so many goddarn rules! I shuffle about through life unnoticed - not sure if that's a good thing or bad.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not unhappy; I'm just unsure.
I'm unsure of what I'm doing.
I'm unsure of what I did wrong.
I'm unsure of what I'm doing wrong.
I'm unsure if those mistakes have made an impact in my present life - like they say it would.
I'm unsure of where I'm heading.
I'm unsure of my skills as a parent, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend.
Damn, I'm even unsure of being unsure!
Ugh. Sigh. Gaaah. Meh. [Insert exasperated emoji here]
Moral of story: I suck at adulthood. And I don't wanna ADULT.
