Who Moved My Mojo?

reward-lost-mojo

I have lost my drive.

You probably figured that out given that my last post was quite a while ago…and if you’ve followed for a long time you may have noticed the lack of So You Think You Can Dance blogs–a show I love religiously and have blogged about since the Season 8 cast. And I actually took notes for most of last season with the kids. They’re still in note form.

I don’t know what to do. It’s been over a year since my entire life got thrown into chaos, when my work, home and personal lives all imploded. I’ve had to move in with my parents–who had ailments of their own that wound up casting me as caretaker; I packed up and moved an entire apartment into two storage units; I’m adrift as to what to do with the rest of my working life AND struggling to figure out how to cover the financial divide in the meantime; and I’m watching my marriage die from a long distance. All of it is making me lose my mind by degrees and wanting to just to do nothing and disappear.  I don’t have the option of doing that, as so many things and so many people depend on  my existence and my action, but I seem incapable of budging myself from this quagmire. I’ve tried to reinvent myself: getting fitness certification, driving for a rideshare company, joining various online groups to boost my progress in blogging, business and wealth building, even training as a Burlesque performer and reigniting my passion for dancing–but my energy bursts carry me so far then I wind up curled in bed watching TV and surfing social media to avoid having to relate to people. To LIVE.

I don’t know if anything would have been different if my kids were a factor–I probably would have been one of those postpartum moms who lost their minds and took it out on the children. Even though I wouldn’t want to. I know where my blind rage can go when unchecked, and it’s just as frightening to witness as it is to be living in it. I’m learning to control it, but back then I can’t guarantee anyone would have been safe with me. You either step up to your responsibilities or you collapse under the pressure….and I’m still trying to grow up just handling myself.

Adulting is hard. It’s a complicated, messy enterprise with no real users manual, tutorials or help desk. And you get thrown into the deep end expecting to know how to swim when you’ve never seen the pool before that moment. My limbs are tired from treading and I’m coughing up water. It’s so much easier to float but you’re aimlessly drifting with no direction. And you can’t see the edge of the pool to find the exit ladder anyway. So you just channel Dory and keep on swimming.

I may well spent yet another day holed up in my house in my pajamas, Cindy or no Cindy. I might get up and tackle the housekeeping that has overwhelmed me for months. I could take care of some business calls I’ve been putting off or even get my financial papers in order. I just need to find my carrot on a stick, my muse…that ONE THING to make me want to keep running toward that finish line.

Dr. Johnson, where the hell is my cheese?

mouse-cartoon-with-cheese-on-head-square

Bring that back here, you rascal!

 

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