Anxiety and boredom are so frustratingly intertwined.
Who am I?
What am I supposed to do?
What do I like doing?
Do I pray?
Do I strategize and plan?
Do I ask an expert?
Am I supposed to handle this myself?
Do I even bother looking for road signs when I’m not even sure it’s a road I’m on?
I have to remind myself that this is worth saying because of me. Not you. You are a distraction. A pressure. A distant and distorted sense of self worth.
The word “lost” comes to mind. Then husband reminds me of how much I’ve found.