Give me some purpose

It was dark and cold in my house as I watched the ball start to drop as the year 2017 rolled in. I held Annie close to me to keep my warmth as she was rocked softly to sleep in my arms. The husband was videotaping the older kids throwing streamers down the stairs counting down from 10.

10, 9, 8…

I looked away from them as I held onto to Annie, tight as the new year came rushing in and I quietly whispered to the universe “give me some purpose, I just need some purpose this year.”  

7, 6, 5…

I could see myself so clearly that night. I was so entangled in the life my kids and husband that I didn't know where I started and they ended. I didn't want to be just their mom or just a his wife anymore. I was made to be so much more.

4, 3, 2…

Just as the ball dropped I pleaded my case again “Please.” I said. “Please, give me purpose.”

I closed my eyes tightly when I sent those words into the universe. Afraid that if I opened them too soon that my word, my meaning would slip passed its destination and I would be left in the same spot unable to move forward and I couldn't chance it.

This year needed to be different. It had to be. My life was meant more than me sitting on the couch watching tv or doing the billionth load of laundry.

It was time for me to find my purpose.

The night passed and we slept. Me, drifting off without another thought about my plea. The next day came, and then the next. The mundane life I lived was still there. I worked, did dishes, bathe the kids, fought and made up with the husband, slept, ate, watched TV and then started it all over again.

Then something happened, after a few weeks my desire to do nothing, changed into a desire to do something. I turned off the TV, started to sew, really sew unafraid. I started reading again and listen to podcasts of inspiring woman. I started to love my curves, embracing my sexuality which led to more sex with the husband.

I became happy, thoughtful and loving. We started to enjoy adventures together. We bought a tandem bike and then we rode it.

I started a handmade doll shop, then a community meet up where we give back to those less fortunate. I met new friends. It was going great, I felt amazing.

But then somehow the guilt crept in. I wasn't allowed to be selfish, I couldn’t be a good wife or mother if I was taking my free time and using it on myself. It was just not possible. So, I stopped sewing, meeting up with new friends and starting to resent my kids.I again started to notice how fat I was again which led me to stop having sex with my husband. We put the tandem bike in the garage.

Then my puppy died unexpectedly and I watched him fight to the bitter end as they put him to sleep and I felt guilty again. I wasn’t there enough for him. I didn’t take him on enough walks. If only I didn’t buy that stupid sharp plastic hummingbird for my garden he wouldn’t have ate it and then died.   

My purpose was dying slowly and I was letting it. I was okay with going back to what it was. Because it was so god damn comfortable but the universe wouldn't let me.

It kept giving me more “free time” My doll shop kept thriving even though I didn't post anything on there for awhile, I got another day off from work and my mother in law took the kids anyway. I started to sew again. My husband some how managed to get more days off work too and we started dating again. My kids stopped watching TV and started to read and play outside more.

I went to a random bookclub I found online in a facebook community and immediately connected with the woman there. I am now hosting a potluck and literally invited strangers from the internet to my house and I am completely comfortable with it.

My purpose is still breathing and its amazing.