Wilt Thou Leave Me So Unsatisfied?

I want to thank everyone who commented on the last post. It's refreshing to hear from so many people who think I'm raising good kids. Only time will tell, I suppose.

It was late when I wrote the last post and I don't think I was as succinct as I would have liked. I am happy. Truly happy. So happy that I feel (given my lack of accomplishments) that it is undeserved. My sense of dissatisfaction is with myself only. By saying my kids are not an accomplishment, I don't mean they aren't my greatest blessing. I just feel as if they are the reward of a good life that I haven't really earned.

That being said, I feel like starting a whole new blog. My life has taken a slightly more serious turn and this blog has been so fun up until now. I hate to kill the mood, because no one can make me laugh harder than myself at myself, so I may start another one so as not to let the serious stuff interfere with the fun.

I tend to compartmentalize. I think that is why I'm not a neat person. I tend to be really nit-picky and I work very very hard at not being nit-picky. Plus, I get overwhelmed when I don't have exact places for things like toys and by that I mean specific toys must have specific boxes and if they don't, they have to be where I can see them until I have a specific box designated only for that specific toy. I've been like that since childhood and I remember almost the exact moment when I gave up and got lazy.

I was about 5 and my mom called me a perfectionist. She meant it as a compliment and to tease me a little. But at that moment, the need for order suddenly came crashing down because I realized that it would never be perfect and that I was going to go mad eventually. But the obsession never went away. It just sat around and festered and developed into a deep, personal dissatisfaction. The realization that perhaps I am not quite right, may be a catalyst to greatness. Who knows? I'm also an optimist.