My mind is always at work...and usually not for all the right reasons.
So here we go.
I get up in the morning, I wonder if my wife is ok, how does she feel?
I miss my kids, so I go in and Maddie is fine this morning, thank God, she's a teenage girl and at any given moment things can go south.
If she's not doing well, then I am worried about her and try to talk to her.
Brandon's up, he's not a morning person so I try to get a hug, but usually get pushed away "leave me alone." If only he'd go to sleep sooner at night, but I am a jerk then, too. At least then I can get a hug.
Then I am at school.
Am I doing what I am supposed to do?
How can I fit in and not worry about it without being a jerk or should I just stay in my room today and stay to myself?
I need to show the students that I care because I do, but I am afraid of being too close because it hurts when they hurt.
Am I doing the right thing?
Quit thinking about the past, wishing you were doing something different now, and preparing so much for the future, I tell myself.
What was that text about? Was it sincere or was there something else behind it?
Why am I so insecure?
Why do I put up walls?
Why do I feel it's so much effort to be open?
Why does it feel that when I take steps forward, the world just sucks me back in to being sheltered and alone?
Why can't my mind rest?
During the day, I can think of something that happened years ago and start to get upset that I felt I got wronged...or it could have just happened 5 seconds ago.
Why do I assume so much of what others are thinking or what they mean?
I feel like I can get a read on a crowd, but I have been wrong before, or have I? Was I right and that person or persons are not telling the truth now?
Why don't I get invited to the most simple things with "friends"?
Maybe it's because of what I have written above.
Whew...yes, it's rough living between my two ears.
Some days or weeks are worse than others, but it can be exhausting.
And I just want to rest, to close my eyes, and get away from this moment...right now.
