I Keep Thinking About (A small writing exercise I’ve been doing—starting with a sentence and not overthinking where it leads...)

 

I Keep Thinking About

I keep thinking about whether I am where I should be.

It’s not a heavy thought, not one rooted in dissatisfaction. It’s quieter than that. More like a steady hum in the background of my days.

Could I do better? Live fuller? 

Get more education? Perhaps practice some meditation?

Be a better mom? Am I fully there when they open up?

And somewhere in between all those questions sits another one:

Am I enough?

The answer, I think, is yes.
But the question still lingers.

Because seeing my value doesn’t cancel out the desire to grow. I know who I am—I am driven, dedicated, empathetic. I care deeply. I also know I can be rigid and demanding, especially with myself.

Lately, I’ve also been thinking about friendship. How much I love my friends. How much those connections matter. And yet, how easily I retreat into my own space.

Because the truth is, I love being home.

I love the quiet. The feeling that nothing is being asked of me. It’s where I reset, where I just am. But that stillness only feels good because I know I’ll return to the other side of me, the one that gives, that shows up, that cares for others. A space of service that I love just as much.

Maybe that’s where I live, in the extremes.

Giving everything, until I need to step back.
Stepping back, until I’m ready to give again.

I’ve always thought of it as a bit of a vicious cycle.

But maybe it’s not.

Maybe it’s just my rhythm.



And maybe, for now, that’s enough.