Maybe I do just wanna be a housewife after all.
Give me the drama, mama.
My rituals have been shot to shit which isn’t really a surprise considering my life has been chaos for the past 60 days. That sounds soo dramatic but like, really that’s how my insides feel and then my brain is like, “Welp your kid is going to come out in chaos” and here we are.
Everything in this life is temporary, including waves of happiness and melancholic feelings, but why does it always feel like the melancholy are the ones that last a lifetime? Or maybe that’s just the angsty, emo, Jersey kid in me. Maybe I need to start doing affirmations or positive thinking practices or something with my head in the clouds to at least help me land amongst the energetically high vibers.
Maybe I need to start casting spells again.
Maybe I need to tap into my primal Witchdom.
Maybe I just need to get my shit together and out of my sweatshirt and sweatpants before 1pm because in a few months that’s all I’ll be wearing.
I’ve heard writers say it before, but right after you birth a book there’s this lull, this lack of ‘creativity,’ this exhaustion that comes with the territory of spilling your guts onto a page for people to make a spectacle out of — that’s where I am now.
It kind of feels like you’re at depletion, which for a creative, for anyone that thrives off of outside inspiration and co-energy, this feels like balls. It feels like you’re a failure. It feels like you’ll never have a creative idea ever again.
Okay again, dramatic, but drama helps you catch my drift.