I am so fed up with my life, and it’s not because I am ungrateful. It is not because I don’t realize and count
I’m fed up because I feel underfed. I feel I am living in poverty underneath the line of my potential. I am moving, and I am soaring, but I am not flying. I haven’t hit a brick wall but these days I feel like I’d rather.
I am so fed up with my life. I am uninspired. I am torn betwixt my yearn for creativity and my borderline angsty need for these post-nominal letters. My need to see all of my dreams come to fruition. The need to watch my son grow into the beautiful young man who I see blossoming before my eyes.
I am torn.
I am so fed up with my life and the lack of freedom that my heart feels while rolling through the punches. Being big and easy in the big and easy. This may come as a surprise, but I am neither big nor easy.
It’s a struggle.
I am SO (caps lock, bold, font 30) blessed, this isn’t up for discussion.
But I feel, today, I feel trapped. Unsettled. Maybe my energy is blocked.
Right now I feel my heart is crying out for something.
Crying out for more.
Waiting to see the other side of what has me feeling torn.
I’m not fed enough.