sometimes i feel so shackled.

they are shackles of my own choosing, but they are still there.

having a husband is a shackle. my life and my decisions are no longer my own. i cannot choose where my life will go, because i am not an “I.” I am part of a “we” and there is an entire other person who needs to be in on that choice. If my entire mindset shifts and I decide that I need to live on a commune in Africa for 6 months, I can hardly expect him to say, “Sounds great, let’s do it!” or “Have fun! I’ll pay the bills til you get back!”

And then there are my children. living on a commune in africa would put a real crimp on them, as they need to be fed (three whole times a day!) and bathed and dressed and their bottoms wiped and their stories read. They need to be told that their shoes are on the wrong feet, and that yes, they do have to have just one taste and then they can be excused. They need to be tucked in and hugged and snuggled and tickled. They need be mothered, and oh, right, that’s me, last time I checked. I wish the day would go by quicker, or I could leave earlier, so that I could go pick them up from school sooner and spend more time with them, but then after we’re home I find myself counting the minutes to bedtime or resenting James for leaving me alone for 10 minutes w/out saying a word.

For some reason this whole “your life is not your own” thing depresses me from time to time. I love my husband. More than when I married him. I love my children. I would never choose a decision made in the past that would not put me exactly where I am now. When things are gloomy and I am depressed though, this is what bubbles to the surface. Like that white goo/foam when you boil chicken bones to make stock. I guess this post is me skimming off the goo, and getting rid of it.

On the WHOLE other side of the coin, if I had no husband, and I had no children, I do not think I would do any of the things I fantasize about (and I don’t even fantasize. It’s just the possibility that I yearn for). I would just go home in my loner way and be more lonely and depressed than I already am. At least that’s what I tell myself to find some comfort. Truth? who knows. Probably the truth is if I weren’t so busy (with house, husband, and children), then I’d just have a lot more free time to be miserable.

Sometimes i wonder if i need therapy. i really do.

All these thoughts were drug to the surface after reading this post from Fussy. I’m not even sure why.

-amy