I feel like I am living Ground Hogs Day.
You know the movie where Bill Murray wakes up over and over to the same day.
"Phil?! Phil Conor?!"
Waking and doing.
Doing the same things day in and day out.
So while I sit and fold my fifth load of laundry or stand at the sink for the third time that day, my mind starts wondering...
Is this me.
Is this what I am supposed to be doing?
One thing I know for a fact that I am meant to be, is a Mom.
It centers me.
And I truly hate saying this and feeling this way.
There are days where my heart longs for something else.
Dear sweet baby Jesus, I wish they were it and I could move on with the school drop offs, diaper changing, cleaning, and fight negotiations, and feel like I did it.
I did what I was meant to do.
But I am afraid.
I am afraid of resentment.
I am afraid of regret.
I am afraid of the what ifs.
I am afraid of not loving myself.
My kids give me more then I could have ever imagined.
But somehow there is always a feeling of something missing.
Is that something the "real" me?
Will next week I wake up to a new day, of this feeling gone?
It seems to move like the seasons through me.
I know this single post will not bring answers.
But putting it out there maybe it will stir some to the surface.
But in the meantime, I am a back to making enough memories for my kids to last a lifetime.