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Fringes

fringes (noun): the outer, marginal, or extreme part of an area, group, or sphere of activity.

This word just packs in so much punch for me. But this word also effs my mind up.

You know why?

Because I feel guilty that my children are just at the fringes when they should be at the center of my life.

Because I feel frustrated that the things that are important are just at the fringes as well. For some reason, i feel the need to conform to what other people expect me to do, or behave how society wants me to behave or simply because of survival. Or comfort. Or whatever.

Because I feel desolate that I am just at the fringes of everything and that actually feels like… nothing.

One question was posted in a mommy group I am in — asking how many hours do you spend on your children in a day.

And when one counts… like really, really account for everything, most of us full-time working moms get to spend only around 3 hours with our children on weekdays. 12% of a 24-hour weekday.

And how much time do we give to our marriage, our relationship? I bet it is even smaller than the percentage I cited above.

It is a sad story. It is a shitty, sad story.

It’s sad because at times like this, when confronted by an introspection that makes you question every single thing happening in your life, you feel alone.

You are alone. Fucked up in your thoughts.

Not even people who are closest to you can understand. In many cases, they would just think you are seeing the world in rose-colored glasses and can’t see the reality that fringes are normal and we just have to effin’ deal with it. Adulting, that’s just simply how it is..

Maybe. Maybe not.

At this moment, they are the most important things to me. Like spending time with my children. Like doing things that actually matter. Like wanting to be wanted and understood the way I want to be wanted and understood.

The fringes of my life. Someday, I would have the courage to turn them around.

Someday. One day…

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