suffering

Hello, reader.  How you doing?  Life is too short for all this suffering.  I wish I could give you a lot of delicious Ethiopian food.  We deny ourselves pleasures a lot of the time.  Whether that’s because of money or some psychological thing.

I wish I could give you any and all of the good things that you don’t let yourself have.

Freedoms too.  If you really hate grocery shopping, I wish I could do it for you, or get someone else to do it for you.  I wish I could come live in your front room and cook all the food for you, do all the grocery shopping, fold your laundry, and hang out with your kids a lot.  That sounds really fun.  I wish I could come live there for a while, like maybe half a year or a year.

heartbroken

Not like I’m in a rut exactly, but I’m heartbroken.  It makes me dream of other lives.  You know I used to periodically daydream about moving and would go on craigslist to look at apartments in other cities.  I haven’t done that in a long time.  This is my equivalent.

I agreed to live here for two years, and it hasn’t even been one year.  But I’m stressed out and sure I can’t do community.  This feeling comes and goes.  I need a quiet studio somewhere out in the woods.  Or I wish I could retreat into an adobe hut, and just rest there in the dark.  Probably you’re familiar with the feeling.

What if I could just be your–not like a housewife, but how about a half-housewife?  Just an idea.

suffering

I have a grief inside me.  Probably you can feel it.  I’m griefed out with suffering.  Thank you for letting me cry to you.

I’m resting, trying to count my blessings, and just keep breathing for the next few days.  Thank you for holding me in your heart.