This post contains some of my feelings. It is here as a journal entry, and if you are uncomfortable knowing more about me than what I did today, please feel free to skip today's post. I promise it won't hurt my feelings.
I need to preface this by saying that I know that none of us are perfect. (Would that be "none of us IS"?) I know that the vast majority of us put on a good show in front of others, and are fairly different when we're on our own, or when we're just at home. This is also the case with me.
Hold on....I have to think of something to say.
I find that sometimes when I'm feeling "this way" that I want to write, but can't think of what to say. I guess there's so MUCH I want to say that I can't get it all to come together.
I am tremendously blessed. I am a healthy, stay-at-home mother of five healthy children. I have a husband who loves me, and works as hard as anyone I've ever known to take care of our family. He supports me in all that I do, even when it means things like "testing" out several dogs before settling on the same kind I had in the first place. He is good to me, and we adore each other. I have the fullness of the Gospel in my home, and am able to see and read and understand the scriptures. There are too many blessings in my life to count, and I am so aware of them every day.
But I feel.....inadequate. I have questions that go unanswered. I get jealous of others, way more than I should. I get jealous for me, for Russell, and for our kids. I have many dreams that have gone unfulfilled. I tend toward selfishness, with my time more than anything else, I think. I am extremely forgetful, of everything. I am lazy, and spend an unexceptable amount of time on the computer. And my house is usually a mess.
I try to justify these things, and others, and I try to make it look like it's all on purpose, and I'm OK with it. But I'm not.
I hate it.
I have spent years praying for the strength to do better, to be better.
I read blogs of women I admire, and try to emulate some of what I see in them.
There is nothing in this world that I want more than to be a good mother and wife. As long as I can remember, that is what I wanted to do. I gave up the only other thing that I really loved, my singing career, in order to stay home and raise my kids. They're growing up more every day, no matter how I raise them, and it scares me. There is so much I'm missing.
I know that I'm a great mom in some ways. I can see that. But does it make up for my...whatever it is I lack? I just don't feel like it does. It helps, I'm sure, but a missing piece is a missing piece, no matter how many other pieces you have. Does that make sense?
Anyway, I don't know why this is on my mind tonight. Nothing really happened to get me started, I just sort of started all by myself.
I haven't lost hope. Tomorrow I can try again. Everyday, no matter what, is an opportunity to do better.
And so I sing...
I love ya, tomorrow,
You're only a daaaaaaaaaaaaay aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay:!