Here I go again on my own

Sometimes I wonder if I truly know who I am. I’ve been trying to visualize my life when Squish has drifted off to live her own life apart from me. I can clearly see where I live, my home, my things, how I feel when I wake up in the morning, but I can’t see myself. I can’t see how I earn a living, who I spend my time with, what fills my days and hushed moments. That’s when I panic.

I’ve been a mother for 17 years and a wife for almost as many. I haven’t had much time to be anything else. My job is just a paycheck to me. It’s not how I identify myself. So now what? I feel like I’m too freaking young or too fucking old (depending on how you look at it) to be having an identity crisis. And just the fact I’m even having an identity crisis irritates me. Tuh, bitch, why? Why are we doing this?

The fact that I can’t see these things is on one hand very exciting. Absolutely anything can happen. Cream. However, sometimes I also find that very overwhelming because of a lot of “woo woo” things (is it really “woo woo” if it’s true too? <- I had to do it) that make me prone to needing stability and security. The not-knowing. That’s what gets me. There are too many rivers of possibilities to gauge the best possible outcome, and my analytical brain can’t handle a load that massive. Heh, stop it.

My life is going to be mine again, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with it 😬