Writing Challenge – Day 8
The struggle is real, they say. I guess I’ve got a blessed life, I only struggle with things I can globally cope with. So here’s a list:
* I struggle with tiredness, because I’m a mother, duh. I work and I raise small boys and I do a million things, because I can and I must and I want to. Ah, and one of the small boys is still not an overachiever on the sleeping front. He’s so much better than he was, but he ruined my nights so thoroughly and steadily for years that now I don’t know how to sleep anymore. And trust me, I was good at it.
- I struggle with guilt (duh, again. I’m a woman and a Catholic and a mother, the best possible combo for guilt). However, I have made quite a lot of progress over the years, and am better at letting go of things that are out of my control, or toxic to me, or just not worth it. Work in progress, not there yet, though.
- I struggle with my weight, a little. I don’t have a horrible weight problem, but I do tend to put on weight easily, and as I age, I lose it less easily, strangely enough. I have to keep more or less constant watch, because if I relax for a while, I suddenly find myself huffing and puffing an awful lot, and I do not want my weight to affect my ability to do what I wish to do. Luckily, I have never wished to run triathlons.
- I struggle with my poor judgement when it comes to men. Don’t get me wrong, most of my exes are really great guys. They’re just really great for someone else. I think I’m the perfect advertisement for arranged matches.
- I struggle with my impostor’s syndrome. A very common syndrome, so I’m hardly exceptionnal in that regard, but the struggle is real here. Maybe the strongest struggle of them all. I find it very hard to be lucid about how much is bullshit (a skill I master, more than a skill, it’s art, at this kind of level), and how much is actually real skill/talent/knowledge. Fake it ’til you make it, they say. I just don’t know how much I’m faking and how much I’m making half the time.
- And tonight, tbh, I’m struggling with my words. Maaaaaaaaybe the two glasses of white wine have something to do with this last one. Oh well.