Peatuk has gotten into babbling lately. He has also gotten into ‘singing,’ which, unfortunately, sounds a lot like crying. The only difference is that he smiles at the end, which somehow makes forty seconds of, “Mommy, I think I have to pee,” singing quite adorable. It’s little things like this that make my life, ‘perfect’ right now.
But let’s think about perfection. Perfection implies some sort of satisfaction. It implies there is nothing left to do. I was socialized as a thirsty American too well to ever allow myself to not want any more. So, even when I am happy, I construct more needs. We need to fully furnish our house. We need to purchase a house. We need a car. We need. We need. We need. Seriously, I no sooner finished a post about how perfect my life is with Nikola and Peatuk than I created a list of all of the things we need to buy in the next year.
I call bullshit on myself.
The truth is, when I sink into the stillness of satisfaction, it doesn’t feel like perfection. The bliss of having is short lived. Instead, anxiety starts to swell up. It bubbles. Like carbonation beneath the skin. I feel like a shark that stopped moving: slowly suffocating. The moment I no longer have a goal I feel lost. I feel like I am wasting time. The need to desire, to crave, builds up within me, and more often than not I end up running away from that sensation as quickly as possible. I fill my desire with cheap things that I don’t really need. I am that uncomfortable with satisfaction. Or I am not really satisfied.
Either way, I think I need to find a way to pull myself out of this consumer mindset I have began to use as a crutch, and allow myself to really settle into stillness. I need to let myself really feel the anxiety. I need to take the time to honestly reflect. Maybe I will embrace my satisfaction. Maybe I will find out what the real hole I am trying to fill is. Maybe I will find it all to be ridiculous and give up. All I know, is that it needs to be done.