I think boredom can be confused with unhappiness.
I was unhappy when I got home. Ill. A poorly boy. A bored boy. A Big Man openly sharing his envy at having to go back to work after a break, leaving us all curled on the sofas.. but really, I am not unhappy, just bored.
In a new desk calendar the phrase of the day hit me like a sledgehammer.
“Become aware of what you’re gaining from your stories…. If you’re perpetuating something dismal in your life because of some dopey story, there’s definitely something about it that you’re getting off on.”
I am missing the attention. The love. The empathy. The novelty? I replay the nightmare, the thriller and climax of October 2016 and the story of preceding years over in my mind and it makes me angry and hurt and wanting.
…Wanting the love and lavish attention from him, affection and empathy from my world.
Because now we have sailed precariously but finally safe through that storm, only losing the unnecessary, life is back to ‘normal’ and ‘boring’ and ‘mundane’.
And I hate myself … for the recognition of what I have just realised.
So my affirmation and promise to myself, for 2018, is to not replay the past and all its pain to gain connection and affection but to pursue and really focus on what I know deep down I want and all the many exciting projects we have lined up, as a couple, a family and individually. And the inner happiness will give me the richness of life I crave. The inner peace will give me the success I look forward to. All of this will provide me with the healthy life I desire and that is the true wealth…
And for those that did me wrong, all of them, I will rise above my pain to be kind. Because I hear that kindness is the new cool…