Some days getting out of bed is the most I do lately. Truly anticipating something great or even mediocre happening is a fantasy for me. I do what I am supposed to most of the time, take the kids to school, clean up the house, and take care of some errands. But when it comes down to it I let the pressure press my body deeper and deeper into the couch, crushing the will from my body.
I really try. I do. Some people would call it laziness. I wish it were that simple. Explaining to someone how life has turned on you in small, incremental steps to where suddenly you get up the life you once valued is only a shell of what it once was.
Fortunately; I still have a great relationship. That is what holds me together these days, yet stresses me out. Running away has been how I have dealt with stress and despair in my life. This method has always seemed to work before I had a family. Now I feel doubly guilty about wanting to run away. I know I won't but sometimes the dream of another exotic job or vacation is the only thing that keeps me going.
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