I was browsing through “My Mother’s Story” for a prompt. Not for my mother, and not for the children I don’t plan on having, but for me. I am my own mother in many senses.

“What was the hardest period of your life and why?”

My instant thought was “in a sense I am still living it, yet it has passed many times”.
It’s recurring. I am plagued with anxiety and depression many times for many reasons.
It never completely leaves me; sometimes it’s just managed better. It’s like keeping it in a box in the attic.
Then a trigger or a stress, consciously or not, just opens the attic door. Scours through the piles of chaos. Finds the box. And of course, proceeds to dump all of its belongings in every bit of the house. Messy messy I feel.

Right now, I am exhausted. Drained. Sad. Far from content. Miles from happy.
I want rest – not from sleep, but from life’s stresses.
I need clarity; a sure direction on where I am going.
I desire joy – self acceptance, motivation, calmness.
I’m yearning for change – beach, sand, sun on end.

I am the type of tired a nap doesn’t shake.
I’m so uneasy that a hug doesn’t help relax me.

Is this what a quarter life crisis feels like?
And although 75% of people in my age bracket experience this, does that actually make it normal?
Even more unsettling.

So I’ll take this day as both a win and a loss. Winning because I’m making it through with every bit of life inside of me. Losing because I know times have been and will be better.
The stable me will return. She will strike again with her optimism, free spirit, and bolts of energy.

Until then, a restless girl I will be.