In the last week, I have written 3 posts.

All incredibly intriguing

(here is where you not your head YES and agree blindly with me)

yet, somehow…as I go to publish…the internet conks out, I hit a random button, or something happens in which the entire, surely epic post, disappears.

So, I’ve taken it as a sign that either everything I’ve written is craps, lies or bullshit and shouldn’t be published OR I need to stop playing in the Candy Jar and get some work done.

Either way…we’re trying again today.

And what I’ve learned in the last week.

I have a COMPLETELY new appreciation for life without kids.

It really is a whole hell of a lot easier.

And although it is a new freedom, it is an oddly empty one.

I wake up when I want and move freely around an approximate 3 mile radius of campus without a breath of responsibility.  I can study where and when I want.  I’ve sucked in 3 yoga classes in the middle of the week in the middle of the day. I can eat without sharing…come to think of it… I can eat without cooking, cleaning or planning.  I don’t have to schedule in naps or baths…laundry or vacuuming and haven’t heard a screaming, tantruming child that requires my attention for a full week.

And if I said i wasn’t enjoying the freedom I’d be a complete liar.

I’m on vacation.

I’m free to do what I want, when I want, how I want.

No need to explain or justify.

I can just be.

And, its good.

BUT.

I miss my kids.

I miss the tears and the tantrums as much as the hugs and the kisses and the big voices that power out of their little lungs.

I find my self caught in the doorway between two worlds.

I guess I know that I can’t really ever immerse myself into either one fully.

The responsibilities and life that fills one world will always leak into the other world.

The idea of balance is hard.

I’m not sure there ever can be balance.

I doubt that anyone can really ever truly dedicate themselves to their passions equally.

What probably can happen is that the person can find themselves more heavily integrated into the world that they most strongly identify with…and dip into the other world enough to quell any internal feelings of guilt or musings of cognitive dissonance. 

Here, I can easily focus on school…I mean that is why I’m here.

And it makes me sad that once upon a time, I gave up this experience for someone who wasn’t worth it in the end.  I appreciate the luxury of education without restrictions created by family. And I regret not having been able to fully experience this same rigor of program without the shackles I have now. 

On the other hand, my Chickens are the most amazing facets of my life.  As they run crazy in the back of my mind (or in the backyard, as the case may be), they remind me of the importance of education.  They give me a new perspective on why I am here and what I’m doing. The chaos of my Chickens keeps me grounded..and gives me a new appreciation of the degree.

I walk a fine line of guilt every day.

Guilt for not dedicating enough time to any of the principal causes supporting my life: Chickens, family, school, friends, work and self.

Nobody gets what they deserve.

But, I guess they get what I can offer.

Which, may or may not, be enough.

Somewhere once upon a time I read and wrote about being enough.

And on a philosophical level I know that we all, myself included, are Enough.

But, Enough isn’t necessarily equated with what is deserved.

Someone recently said to me, “Just imagine what you could be if you weren’t running all over the place and could just focus”

Focus.

I’m not afforded the luxury of focusing on one thing for too long.

My life is a series of snippets.

Video shorts that I can only hope can be edited into something meaningful for the people who are included.

Living in snippets.

I guess that is the way my life is Meant to Be.

A divided life.

Roles that aren’t supposed to intersect.

Keeping the doors of Self hidden from each other.

Not allowing the people, places and events of one to merge with another.

A true and fast reality is that we rarely live the lives we imagined we would.

Those lives are just not Meant to Be.

Now, as I balance precariously between my own secret lives, I wonder what is Meant to Be.

Time, as they say, will tell.