Writing

Writing because I have to
Writing because I can
Writing because I want to
Writing because that is what I do.

So much to write about
I tell myself no one cares
I ask myself, why do people want to read your thoughts and feelings?
Is that really my voice? Do I really care?
Sometimes I care, others times I don't

So now is one of those don't care times
I want to write about being frustrated about not writing.
I want everyone to know that I have so many thoughts and feelings that I want them to know about. I need to write them out.
I want people to know they aren't alone in their thoughts and feelings.
That other people, like ME, feel the same way.

I feel sad some days, for no real reason.
I feel frustrated alot, for not getting my way or having to be flexible.
For not being understood or misunderstood.
I feel angry that I have to explain myself all the time.
I feel angry that other people are sad.

I feel love and appreciation for my children.
For my friends.
For a husband who I know loves me.
For my family. For my abilities.
I feel thankful that I can enjoy the sound of birds singing, or feel a cool breeze. A pretty flower, a nice smile. My wind chimes.
Somedays I have to force myself to see the good stuff. Hear the nice things, appreciate the positive.

But it doesn't come naturally. That makes me tired.

I'm tired of not being able to shut my brain down to sleep.
I'm tired of feeling like everything is my responsibility.
That I have to get everything right all the time.
Even though logically I know that's not true.

I want to allow someone to take care of me without feeling guilty about it. 
Allow them to see my vulnerabilities without having to show or prove that really, I'm ok.

I don't want to be ok sometmes. I want to be a mess. I don't want to hold it together all the time. I want to fall apart and not care that I can't pull myself back together.
I'm tired of having to hold it all together.

I want to mess up and have everyone be proud of me for it.

I want to feel comfortable in my body.
I want to care.

I keep remembering UYO and the angel walk, when I fell apart and people took care of me and didn't judge me for being weak or emotional. I was allowed. And still loved.

It's exhausting to hold it together all the time.
My clients have to see me holding it together.
My kids have to see me holding it together.
My husband needs me to hold it together.
My parents need me to hold it together.

I'd like to fall apart and stay there for a couple days, without worry or care about what they will think or feel.

But no.
I will hold it together.

Because that is what I do.
I can only write about wanting it.
Because that, too, is what I do.