Cliches

I feel like I’m in a country song. Title: “Sittin in a Bathtub, Bubbles Mixin with Tears.”

It’s been a hard week, a hard month, an even harder year. 2019 has to be better right?

I practice appreciating my blessings. Name them. Beautiful home and endearing husband, stable and fulfilling career, mom, sisters, nieces, and two best friends I adore along with many other close friends. And, my writing. Be grateful for them. I am.

But even with all of these blessings, some days, only some mind you, I think what’s the damn point? Is it middle age? A mid life crisis? Depression? I’m not sure.

What I do know for sure is that life is hard. Half the time I’m too tired to do much of anything. My sleep is off so I take Benadryl before bed. Hubby disapproves, but I tell him, I need to sleep. I have to work in the morning.

Work is a relief because there, for the most part, I pretend. The distraction of court and my client’s problems are a relief from my own maudlin thoughts. Occasionally, however, I get lost in my thoughts there, picturing myself at home with coffee writing on a typewriter (I know it’s an antiquated dream but just substitute in a laptop in the daydream instead).

Speaking of laptops, my screen died this week on my MAC book. I panicked. It went down right in the middle of me writing a story. Is this a sign I thought? My writing is so awful that even my computer can’t stand it.

The worst thing is the self doubt. I want to believe in myself. I want to be the girl who applied to USC Law on a lark and got in. But I fear I’m becoming a pessimist. My infertility, along with the deaths and sadness in my world have almost made me give up on God.

Then, a new day comes and I know that it will bring miracles at times. A forty seven year old woman trying to make it as a writer may be a cliche but cliches are based on truths. And, I may just be the one who makes it.