Realizing my husband is my secret journal

There is so much that I have to say but it doesn’t seem any of it really means anything other than my subconscious knows I am unhappy and wants to strive for more in life. But my body is just avoiding the conversation. Now that I cannot talk with Jacob about all these things I’m realizing how unhappy I am at work and how I do want something more for myself and I have this whole time. I’m afraid of defeat. I’m afraid of failure. I’m afraid of more debt or venturing off and finding myself still not where I want to be. I mean I live in fucking Washington and I’m telling myself I can’t make an art career for myself here. That’s crazy. I mean friends back home have managed to do so and they are in Oklahoma. Seattle is like a rock throw away and I’m complaining and working at a party store. That’s just embarrassing. I mean yeah sure I’m a manager but come on.. Dude I am so much more than average. I mean I still need an income, but shit. I also need to step up my game. I’m not trying anymore. I’ve gotten lazy. I’m not even taking advantage of the fact that we live somewhere different than we always have. Anyways, I just want to show improvement before the end of the year. I want to be able to tell myself I have grown and pushed forward. That I have gained something in the last year other than material belongings. I want to know that I am comfortable in my skin and who I am. That I have an image and it’s what I want for myself. I am aging and not progressing. Even my artistic skill hasn’t developed. Pure sadness this thought. I need to do more. And I know it. I am just always so tired and unmotivated. Maybe vitamins, I stopped taking them. And gaining a stronger community in which to develop my mind and soul. A support group. Something that will make me push myself and gain constructive criticism from others about how to improve.


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