I could easily spend 3-4 posts just explaining why I haven't written in six months. But that's not important. Let's just say I've been busy, and didn't feel like writing. At all.
And that, right now, I do. And I'm trying to be okay with either extreme. I hope you all understand.
Strike that. I don't care. I'm writing because I feel like it and if no one reads it . . . shrug. No big. I'll read it. Or I won't. There is freedom in the writing, whether it gets read or disappears entirely into the abyss of the internet. For now, I feel like writing, and that is enough.
I'm in an okay place right now. I'm good with me. I'm good with Patrick, and I'm good with my kids. Life continues to throw me curve balls, but I'm doggedly attacking each and moving on to the next. This is a huge improvement for me, and I'm content with it. I used to wish that life would slow down, would stop throwing me curve balls. I wished desperately for life to be boring. I've accepted, for the moment, at least, that boring isn't happening for me. It's just not. I seek out challenge, whether I intend to or not. And once I've found a challenge, it's hard for me to ignore it.
And that's okay.
In fact, that sentence describes much of my attitude at the moment: [Fill in the blank]. And that's okay.
I'm not a perfect mom. And that's okay.
I'm not a perfect wife. And that's okay.
My house will never be glossy-magazine-immaculate/perfect. And that's okay.
My favorite jeans have a hole in the knee. And that's okay.
I need more sleep, but I'm not getting it anytime soon. And that's okay.
In short, I've entered a phase of acceptance in my life, and it feels pretty darn good. I know myself well enough, by now, to know that this acceptance will someday - maybe soon, maybe not - be replaced by a phase of restlessness, of a need to shake things up. And at that point, I will accept another challenge, and pursue it doggedly.
Because that's who I am.
And that's okay.