What am I so afraid of? Why don’t I just write?

I’m afraid of consequences, yes. I fear I’ve become boring, yes… but isn’t this my place to be boring if I want to be?

I made some quip about diaper changing and was told “you should have a website!” I stammered, and then trailed off, “I do have a…” I did. I don’t use it much lately?

I’ve been spending my paycheck paying for a babysitter so that I can go horseback riding once a week. That’s who I used to be. The girl on the old gray mare. But, I’m not so much a girl any more, and the mare, her days belong to some other college girl I’ve never met. Going horseback riding with my college roommate has been nice. She’s still the same old soul she’s always been. But that’s just it. Nice.

Not defining.

I no longer live and breathe wood shavings and leather. I can’t remember how it really feels to canter a steady horse. I certainly don’t have the athletic body any more.

I remember the farm, the drama, the hard fought privileges and lessons. I remember knowing exactly who and where I was. I was certain about my place in the world.

Not so much, anymore. I struggle to write, I think, because I struggle to own the person who I have become. I struggle to write, because I know for sure that two people read here (Hi Goon Squad! Hi Husband!). I’m not sure who else does, so I find I’m censoring myself. Too much.

At the moment, I’m That Mom who doesn’t care that the baby is pulling toilet paper off the roll. I won’t even promise to pick it up before my husband gets home. The baby is happy. And for now, quiet.

I’m That Mom who’s lonely, so I over-commit to volunteer work and committee work I don’t want, just so that people will call me or stop by.

I think I’m still depressed. Or at least, I’m lonely enough that when it’s quiet enough to sit and write, I feel sorry for myself. By the time I sit down with a minute to myself, what’s left for me? I’m spent. I’m tired of being defined by depression. I’m tired of depression. I’m tired of myself.

I’m tired of reading blog posts that, well, look like this one.