I can’t help but be jealous of almost everyone. Jealous of the other bloggers that I really enjoy reading. Jealous of people I consider an inspiration. Jealous of those getting new jobs that they seem so excited about. My jealousy is so much that I end up having to mute these wonderful people from my timelines.
It’s as if I have to shield myself from successes of others in order to feel less shitty about who I am and what I have achieved.
Even on the bus around the city, I spot worker bees wearing smart, Topshop-looking clothing, laughing with their colleague, looking pretty happy as they walk through the streets of Edinburgh, and I wish I was them. I wish I could afford those clothes (and fit in them), I wish I could have a colleague to hang out with at lunch, I wish I could have that job. Then I remember that at one point I did have all those things, and that in the end, they did nothing for me.
And yet, I still wish I could be doing something more with my days. Even though I’m two weeks away from my due date, and walking for more than twenty minutes causes exhaustion and aches in my hips, I still wish I could be doing something, be employed somewhere. I want to make an income and make a difference, but even if I wasn’t pregnant, my anxieties, depression and general lack of confidence would get in the way of that.
I know that once my daughter does arrive (which I’m hoping will be any day now) she will awaken something primal in me; that motherly instinct, that need to protect and teach and love. Perhaps that will be what I need to overcome the demons that have been ruling over my life for many years.
Motherhood won’t be some magical cure, but it could be the motivational kick up the bum that at least helps me battle through a few mental hurdles that linger in my mindset.
The way you think about yourself determines your reality.
– Shannon L. Alder