Pneumonia. I've had it for almost 10 days now. This is the 4th time in 3 years. I don't smoke, only drink every once and awhile, workout 4-5 days a week. I don't get it, and frankly-neither do any of the docs I've seen. I suppose this makes for a little bit more of a melancholy me tonight. It feels very familiar. I like familiar. We are creatures of habit aren't we?
As one tends to do when they are housebound with an illness, I've been reflecting on things. This blog being one of them. I spent the better part of almost an hour skimming over past entries in past years-and I had an "aha!" moment. Looking back, it seems my original purpose in journaling a perpetual free-verse of my life transformed into something entirely different through the divorce process/custody battle with Dan. I am ashamed of myself at times. Most of the time really. I stopped being proactive in the betterment of my own life and my children's lives. I became consumed with anger, bitterness, desperation, and all the sordid familiarities that come with that particular state of being. I missed out on so many of the little joys of motherhood because I was so self-absorbed in my own hate. I am ashamed, and grieve over it in moments peppered throughout each passing day. Some days are better than others. Some days I feel victorious by creating laughter in my children's hearts. Others, I feel like I nothing more than a disappointing figurehead in their lives. Trying to find my balance has proven to be both liberating and debilitating. How is that even possible?
So, now I've come full circle. I am very much so socially/emotionally/physically alone again. A very good friend (Brian) once told me that I needed to embrace my solitude before I would be able to truly share my life with anyone at all. Maybe he was right.
Maybe.
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