I’m a two year old again.

I have puffy pillows around my eyes.

Last night, I decided that the best thing for me to do was to take my box of tissue, go to the front room, and curl up on the couch with my head on my Mom’s lap and cry.

It was a good decision.

It was my only decision.

I had been curled up next to the cold metal bars of my bed and sobbing silently, and that wasn’t helping much.

So, twenty-three and a half year old me, sobbed in my Mom’s arms like a two year old.

Because, twenty-three and a half year old me, can’t handle decisions.

I can’t handle not being happy.

I can’t handle it.

I can’t handle everything.

School and volunteering and babysitting and physical therapy and music and pain and being unemployed.

 

My mom stroked my hair and told me that it was okay that I couldn’t do everything, and that it wasn’t selfish, even when twenty minutes before I was talking about how I didn’t want to do anything and she said it sounded kind of selfish.

Teardrops and tissue boxes and a woman becoming a child in her Momma’s arms changes things.

 

Who am I that I still get to run to my Mom’s arms and cry?

What kind of adult am I?

What kind of child?

What kind of cushy life do I live?

I don’t know.

How weak am I that I need my Mom?

I don’t know.

I’m very weak.

 

I’m very weak and my Mom said she would take all my problems if she could, but we all have our own problems that we have to deal with.

She doesn’t have to go to grad school, but I don’t have a twenty-three year old daughter crying in my arms in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t know what to do…

I have to figure out my life.

If it was just grad school, maybe it’d be easier, but it’s not.

It’s figuring out that the things that make me happy aren’t the things I get to do for the rest of my life.

It’s figuring out that just because I suffered, it doesn’t mean I get to give up.

It means that I have to figure out what I can do and what I can’t do, and how to live my life without crying every night, and how to actually be happy.

I miss being happy.

I like being happy.

I want substantial happiness.

 

It’s my one year word press anniversary for my blog about “being independent, while being entirely not”, I think I keep proving that I’m entirely not…

 

 

I’m working on it. Working. Working.

Thank you for reading.

Later, dear readers.

 

– Catherine

 

 

 

 

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9 Comments

Filed under Cdukulele's life.

9 responses to “I’m a two year old again.

  1. Rachel

    PULL YOSELF TOGETHA AND GROW DA EFF UP. ur a big girl now, and you got big girl responsibilities this is tha best advice any1 will give you on dis blog. Be an adult, take care of urself&stop tha pity party. THE END.

    • Thank you Rachel, I appreciate your advice. I’m working on the growing up thing, I’m not going to be able to fill everyone else’s standards for who I should be, but I will do my best. Again, I appreciate your taking the time to comment and the implied strength you have, as I assume you follow your own advice…but I suppose we all break down at some point? The emotional blog writer a bit more than others, it appears, but I’ll grow up. I won’t guarantee there will be no more sad posts or late night tears, or any evidence of the success that I forget to mention here as this kind of became the home for my troubling thoughts, but rest assured, I am currently in one piece.

  2. u hav no excuse 2b actin this way still, not a child n e more

    • I appreciate your tone, you seem genuinely concerned. Or annoyed. But not flat out malicious. Which of course makes me ponder your motives for writing, as they seem to suggest actual interest in my wellbeing. Of course, I would not assume to know what you really thought when composing your comment, I can only guess. Anyway, I apologize if my weakness irritates you, unfortunately it is something I’m dealing with and not afraid to show, because the risk of showing who I really am and displaying my most human moments, even the pathetic ones, and being rejected, didn’t seem that great compared to lying about my weaknesses and refusing to acknowledge that they exist. Perhaps I have it wrong. Anyway, thank you for your interesting comment. -Catherine

  3. if its any comfort, i hope my girls will turn to me when life get rough not matter the age. my relationship with my mother is not like that, and sometimes i wish i could crawl up in her lap and cry. and im 37 😉 i so understand your feelings, as i am also going to a crises of finding myself. what i keep thinking is what is it your truly want to do that you feel you can not do? is there really no possible solution to get you to follow your dream? and in my book, being aware of being stuck is better thatn to not. so you are moving forward and you will figure out the path to happiness. just remember that happiness is not a place someone describes to you, its where YOU find happiness ❤

    • oh man, i was so eager to write that a lot of misspellings happened! hope you understand my thoughts ❤

      • I understood them 🙂 , thank you for your comment. Yes, I have a pretty good relationship with my parents, an outstanding one, even, depending on who you talk to. The real issue is…Well, finding my dream versus what just makes me happy in the moment. I didn’t get very specific in my posts because…Well, my dream is to have a job that I can physically handle without pain, that pays the bills, and makes me happy or content. To do something with my life that I feel is worth something, because after having an intense surgery that could have theoretically resulted in many negative things, like having my skull fused to my neck or death, two years back, and going through physical therapy to recover from the other impacts of the surgery, and as I’m still in physical therapy to recover from the effects of the surgery, like some nerve damage, I’m just tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. And, I keep trying to fulfill that dream, to simply have a job I don’t hate, but since I started playing music and writing songs and singing them for people, I really enjoy singing, and I want to sing more, and so I want some sort of dreamy life that allows me to be independent and still sing… The perfect dream would involve being paid for my music and working on that alone, but as a side dream I’ll accept any occupation that allows me to continue to work on my music. The way things were going last week, I barely had time to sleep let alone pick up a uke, and I was tired, and I still had things I had to do for my own physical well being, like physical therapy, and basically, it felt like I couldn’t do anything. So…I…well…this is already quite long and I’m sure I’ve given you more details than you might have originally wanted, so I’m going to stop now and maybe just do a brief post update. Thank you again for your comment and kindness, I am working on my path. 🙂

        • I hope you never give up on your dream!!! I know it’s hard to see it happen, but please never give it up. Your physical struggles have been so huge! I’m not sure if I could have handled what you have been through. And are still going through. I believe in you. Never give up your music. Have you ever thought about studying to become a music teacher? Stay strong, I’m so happy to have found your blog and I’m looking forward to see how your path evolves ❤️

          • Oh I won’t…Music is actually kind of like therapy. I can’t give it up. When I’m burdened I write songs, and then I cry when I don’t have the energy or time to write songs, and then I write songs when I have energy again but am still suffering. Music and writing help me process life. And prayer. Which I can also do through music and writing… I’m glad you found my blog too, you and your kindness are appreciated and loved.

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