This Life

I've wondered a lot recently if the life I'm living is the life I am supposed to be living.
If I went off course at some point, if I did something wrong, or if this is who I am supposed to be, living the life I am supposed to live.

If depression and mental health was part of my plan, or if I did something that made me deserve to have that challenge. If in my childhood up until my teenage years when it first hit, if I did something that meant I had to suffer and fight.

Do I live where I am supposed to live? Am I doing the job I am supposed to be doing? Do I look the way I am supposed to look?
And are the people in my life supposed to be in my life?

I wonder, often, if there is anything I can do to change my path. If any of it is actually a choice or if we are really supposed to take each day as it comes. Or if we make choices we don't realise we make.
If, at some point, life was supposed to be different or if we got lost and made it all routine.

Or is it too late?

At 33, with two children, have I left it too late to live where I am supposed to live, to live the way I am supposed to live, to be doing what I am supposed to be doing?
To mentally be as stable as I can.
To be settled.
To be happy.
Whether that means being in a life as society expects. Or if it means living a life that doesn't conform to that norm.
If it means not sticking to the town, or country you were born.

Is it ever too late to start this life again?
To try and live your life as it should be?
To discover who you are and how you should live?



Broken Juggler

Not completely broken. Not even as broken as I have been.
But chipped. A big chip.
But fixable.
I hope.

Three areas I feel I have to keep the balls juggling.
You get into a rhythm. Where they are all settled and working well. Ok they could each do with improvement but are steady at least.

And then...one becomes too much.
Through absolutely no fault of your own.
And you are juggling 2 balls. Trying to get that third one back, but wondering if it's worth it anymore.
If the effort of juggling it is worth it.

Worth the time. Effort. Passion. The wasted hours. The wasted thoughts. The wasted moments when you think about it too much, you put into it far more than you get out. And then the cracks start to show.
You make others aware, help me mend myself. Please.
And although help is there.
It doesn't happen.
And you keep trying.
Keep. On. Trying.
I. Can. Do. This.

The energy is drained.
There is little left.
The heart and head says one thing. The gut says another.
But how long do you carry on until it's too much?
Until it affects your everyday life.
When you realise that things seem to be different for you. And 'fair' doesn't come in to play...when it comes to you.

The cracks soon get bigger. A dent.
To the passion.
The pride.
The confidence.
The feeling of "I am good at this. I am worthy. I make a difference" soon becomes "Why the hell am I doing so much for so little?"

How many times do you attempt to fix it?
How many times do you attempt to carry on?
How long do you let things affect other areas of your life?
How many times do you repair yourself?

Repair the cracks.
The breaks.
The dents.

How many times do you drop everything? All the balls. Pick them up and try again.
The balance.
The juggle. 

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