gray daisies

I’m struggling.

There is no other way to put it.

I created this life for myself, hoping that it would be right.  Good.  OK.

And, for the most part, it is.  Right. Good. OK.

But I’m still struggling.

I feel like I give so much to everybody else, that I have nothing left for myself.

I am a stay-at-home mom, struggling to find my peace and my way.

I am drowning in a sea of expectations.  Most of which I have set, mostly to please someone other than myself.

Somewhere along this journey of my little gray life, I lost what was best for me.

So, here I am – all grown-up, in my thirties, and I am diving into the murky depths of self-discovery.

When I think back to my childhood (in hopes to find some vague memory of myself – who I was) I remember writing and drawing.  All. The. Time.

My inner child screams to be comforted with the simple pleasures of writing stories and drawing pictures.  She is an artist, that little me (I am an artist, too).

I. Am. An. Artist.

And this, {graydaisies}, is my canvas – memoirs & musings of my little gray life.