My daughters love to ride the merry go round- when we go to the Houston Zoo, the first thing Genesis wants to know is when can she ride the merry go round. Funny enough, my older girls ride it over and over again with her, although the excitement that they used to have when they were Genesis's age has worn off. For me, nope, I'm not getting on that thing- my life is a merry go round, but not in the fun kind of way- the nauseating way. Whatever the ride animal that I am sitting on keeps going up and down, while moving round in the same circle with the same songs playing over and over again. Instead of the songs being a cute Disney movie song, it's the song that tells me what I don't have enough of or what qualities I am lacking which is probably why my circumstances are what they are. There are days when I feel like maybe I have exited the ride- where things seem to be progressing in the direction I hoped for, but then just like that next trip to the zoo, I'm right back on it.
My Aunt recently said to me, "that's life honey- it will always be something." Sure enough, she's right. It is always something. But what if the something looks like the same thing over and over? I ask myself what I am doing that has me back in the same situation- there is never enough. Is it my fault? Or is this just what life is- battle after battle. Am I doing something or perhaps not doing something and that's why I end up here over and over? Or is this just life? They say history repeats itself. Seems true because I mean, look at the clothes the kids are wearing these days. I thought the 90's weren't cool but now they are back??!!
The worst part is, in my mind I tell myself a lie that I am the only one who feels like this. I know that's not true, but in the midst of the chaos and unrelenting "not enough" song, my brain tells me that it's just me. I am a failure who created this chaos. I keep getting on the merry go round.
I'm not exactly sure what it is, but until I figure it out, I just keep going round and round wishing for it to stop.
