things have gotten all sorts of complicated and I'm not even sure where to begin? how about here:
I took an unplanned leave from work.
yup after years of hearing, "I don't know how you do it", the heat finally got to me and I had to get out the kitchen.
it was [and continues to be] both humbling and humiliating. to throw my hands in the air and admit to the world that I'm broken was/is exceptionally difficult especially since I pride myself on fixing things; made a career out of it even.
my whole life I've been intensely empathic; I know no other way of being, but my greatest gift can also be my kryptonite. if anything I've learned that you can't save those who don't want rescuing. they'll just kick and flail and spew ugliness until you yourself get injured and hurt.
the other night Saige chose The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein [#lovehim] as her bedtime story and my eyes stung with tears as I read the line, "I'm sorry but I have nothing more to give". I get choked up just typing that because it's become my self-induced reality, I have nothing left to give.
my passion for helping others has become my own undoing and now I'm stuck. do I leave social work? do I quit a profession I've dedicated 5 years of schooling and another 6+ years of service to? do I abandon a career that offers safety and security (pension, benefits, salary) to pursue a new happiness and other passions, something more creative perhaps?
I'm not certain I can bring myself to publish this post. like so many before it, this entry may be doomed to draft for the rest of eternity. acknowledging my failures amongst a sea of seemingly flawless Superwomen is a painful truth. to be honest I've stopped commenting and even reading a lot of blogs that appear too perfect. I just can't relate.
I can't relate to the moms who whip up labour intensive recipes from their backyard gardens and take beautiful photos of homemade gluten-free organic parsnip muffins and/or their impeccably dressed kids munching on homegrown carrot sticks like they were Twix candy bars or something. I can't relate to the same blog moms who craft pinworthy DIY's, host magazine worthy book club parties and run bi-weekly half-marathons all the while looking amazing in the selfies they post on instagram posing in front of fingerprint-free mirrors with pristine white walls and well decorated rooms in the background. I know these women do exist and I applaud them for doing the perfect thing so perfectly, but I just can't relate. wish I could, but I can't.
what I can relate to is the wise words of Teddy Roosevelt:
phew. how's that for a confessions post? bet you didn't see that one coming [or maybe you did]. just another example of me keeping it
real really awkward. maybe I'll try to lighten things up a bit with the obsessions post that's sure to follow. xo