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The Sunday Ughs. (#NaBloPoMo Day 6)



We feel it creeping up on us, like a late afternoon shadow that we try and run from. The sunshine and joy that commenced Friday evening and rolled over all the way to Sunday morning is falling away. We get that "Sunday evening blues" feeling, every week. We know that come 5:30, or 6:00am, the week, the grind, starts all over. 
We have been obedient and trustworthy, hardworking and determined. Respectful of authority and dedicated to our companies. We've done this through the years, since finishing college or high school or whatever road we decided to take in those days. 
We've lived a linear, THIS + THIS = THAT existence. We've followed a formula with a promise that at the end of that equation is the answer to life's questions and the realization of our every whim and wish. 

Nope. 


We have our kids to wrangle to get to school, we have dropoffs and conference calls, grocery shopping, hell--we have to somehow figure out dinner before we even consider shopping. We feel uncomfortable in our clothes, every week realizing more and more how hard it's been to fit in a workout and take care of ourselves. Trying to stay up on our manicures and eyebrows and hair trims and Oh God I Need To Color My Roots. Pulling the more expensive moisturizers off of the shelves, purchasing a little bit better--more expensive--makeup because WE'RE 40 SO IT'S ALL DOWN HILL. We're trying to connect with our spouses and somehow get moments with them, and realizing with contempt, fear and eventually despair--that those dreams we packed tightly in our suitcases when we drove off in our tiny cars to college to LIVE THE DREAM, are growing further and smaller and seemingly less attainable as we glance in the rear view everyday. 
The tiny lines are appearing in the corners of our once bright and hopeful eyes. We dream of stronger underwire. We sigh when we walk in to work, confronted with the usual scents and sounds, and feel a pang of sadness and "Is this all there is?" as we begin our days. 

Is this the midlife crisis? Is this what everyone was murmuring about  on tv in 1987, when someone who was 40 seemed so OLD? 

What if we just went for it? What if, this really didn't have to be all that there is? What if we just needed to put in that elbow grease and take a damn chance for once? 

I feel restless. There's another level that God meant for me, and I can't put it down or ignore it. 

What is it? What is that burning that won't leave you alone? What are you daydreaming about in those moments that you want to get up, walk out, let the doors slam behind you and hear the click-click-click of your favorite heels walking away from what holds you captive? 

Maybe, let's break out of the linear mold and zig-zag a little. Stop allowing fear to hold us tight in complacency, glued to the ground around us, being good little midlife girls and boys. 

We weren't given gifts and dreams and talents for nothing. Maybe it's time to figure out what to do with them. For real, yo. 

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