I expect too much of myself.
I beat myself up when life does not go the way I want it to.
I want to be better than what I grew up in.
I sometimes feel like I will meet the same failures my
family has.
I am easily angered; tethered to past bitterness and anger and
hurt by those who said they loved me.
I sometimes wonder if I love really exists. I have to tell myself to look at my wife and
my children. There I find love. There I find a reminder that it exists.
I probably suffer from depression. I am not license to diagnose myself with it.
I probably have had it for years, but I was distracted by my
time in the Army and then traveling as a civilian contractor in the rehab
field to really notice it. Now that I am
settled, and real life exists around me, there are some things I cannot ignore
anymore.
Where I live is inside city limits. Ultimately, I want to live outside city
limits, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
I am willing to compromise a little for my wife and live somewhere in a
small amount of somewhere. Mainly, I
want to be able to walk outside, walk into the woods with a book and/or journal
in hand (with a pen of course), settle underneath a tree, and either read or
write.
My mind is constantly racing with thoughts. I want somewhere quiet to silence them.
Sometimes I feel like God is a cruel father, and I should
walk away from this abusive relationship, but sometimes it is hard to walk away
from the oppressor. So I stay, trying to
understand Him. I hope my belief is not
in vain.
This blog was morbid.
This week has started off not so well.
It has made me question my past decisions in the career I am in.
I think ultimately I really wish I did not have to
work. I would rather enjoy each day
without worrying about how to pay this bill or how to pay that bill.
And there is the truth on this Tuesday.
Until next time…
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