I returned home after my workout this morning close to tears. I am just. so. tired.
Tired of feeling behind the 8 ball. Tired of trying and failing and trying and failing and trying again to get on top of my eating habits and general health and well-being. Tired of cleaning. Tired of studying. Tired of hospitals and courtrooms and grief and worry and sadness.
As I threw a urine-soaked towel (our newest foster/maybe forever dog, Jake/Hutch, isn't potty trained yet) into the washing machine, I realized...
Tired... but, closer to happy than I've ever been.
My messy house, my messy dogs, my messy husband, my messy desk at work, my messy study desk, my messy car, my messy personal life, my messy family... They're a mess... but MY mess. I own my own home. I'm married to a wonderful man. I love my dog(s). I belong to more than one tight-knit community of friends/co-workers/teammates/colleagues.
This is the life I've been given. I only have one. It's messy, but it's mine. There's only so much in my day that I can control... and what I do have control over is pretty damn good sometimes.
So, yes, I'm tired, and my life's a mess, but, it's my life, and I'm living it the best I can.
No comments:
Post a Comment