mckarlie

I have happiness in my heart and a thorn in my soul

Do dreams die from reality?

I’m 33. When I was younger I had many plans, travel, become a psychologist at some point, buy a house. I hadn’t planned on having a family, didn’t have any interest in having kids and when I was 19 I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome and told I’d need assistance to get pregnant.

So, I rent, I have two kids and a man of 13 years, i have partially finished 3 different bachelor degrees and am nowhere near buying a house because they cost at least half a million these days. I have given up on having any kind of extraordinary existence and seem to be treading water. I consider it a win when I have a day where I don’t feel utterly shit about myself, I have definitely settled.

Yesterday on Ellen there was a 64 year old woman who has just swam from cuba to the florida keys, she was banging on about inspiration and never giving up and the cynic in me cringed a bit as she spoke of her woes, but part of me was desperately jealous of this older woman who is out there kicking arse and not giving a shit about conventional boundaries. It made me think that maybe there is still time for me to be something awesome, maybe I can have an extraordinary existence. But then I quickly shoot myself down, reminding myself that I am afflicted with bipolar and basically that means I can have buckets of good intentions, but when a depressive episode hits everything stops. Study, relationships, life in general just goes into pause mode and I try to just survive.

Part of me thinks that I just need to keep writing novels until one of them is really good, but then I’m so neurotic that finishing a novel is almost impossible. The one i’m working on now has interest from a friend’s literary agent but that ultimately means nothing, it’s not a guarantee of anything happening, it’s just potential and at this rate who knows if I will actually finish it because I keep over analyzing details and whether I should have written in a certain character before killing them off or if I should have started from the impact of their death and blah blah blah. You get me, I procrastinate.

Do you still have dreams? Do we get to have a mental illness and aspire to be great? Or do we just settle and try to survive?

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