I fear I’ve been listening to too much Sia tonight. I always have my troubling thoughts, optimistic resolutions, and torrid anxieties at night. I want so desperately to be a morning person…but when one’s brain keeps one up most of the night, it is difficult. Although, I must say, my 1.5 year old is certainly trying his best to make me a morning person. He has woken up at 4 AM on the dot for a month. It turns out 4 hours of sleep a night is not enough. And yet, when it comes to bedtime, my brain and body, which have been exhausted all day, come alive. “Shall we create?” my mind asks while my body simultaneously decides that now is the right time to finally start exercising. It is most maddening, especially considering that I KNOW I need to be sleeping. Like right now. Like hours ago. Like so much so that I ignore all creative and self-bettering impulses to lay sedentary in bed doing nothing. There I am, twiddling my thumbs while my mind takes me hostage. Worrying about death and disease and the future and am I doing enough as a parent (probably not), and the state of the world, and the people suffering all over, and the animals being killed and tortured, and global warming, and the crazy people who have the power for reasons that I don’t understand, and why the heck did I not try to become an actress while I could. I mean, for Pete’s sake, it’s all I’ve wanted since I was five and began writing and starring in my own plays and home videos. And then I start feeling guilty because I chose a different path…out of fear of failure and disappointing people…but also it ended well. I get to teach and mentor teens for a living. I met my amazing husband. I birthed two beautiful babies. I am not without gratitude. But…sometimes it’s hard not to think of the road not taken. Isn’t it? Does this make me a horrible person? And then I feel ashamed because I have all the things that so many people do not: shelter, love, food, a wonderful husband, beautiful children, a psycho dog…

These are surely the ramblings of a privileged person. I am aware of that. But, I suppose, even though I am privileged in all the things listed above, I still have feelings. I wish I was a logical person. My highly sensitive self is always at war with who I wish I was: not depressed, not anxious, contented, faithful, feeling a sense of certainty. But does anyone ever feel a sense of certainty? Probably not.

I promise all my posts will not be so moody. I want to write about our adventures here in Scandinavia and I will. But right now I have the big feelings. I blame Sia.