I had a hard day. I had zero patience with my girls and the day seemed to last forever. Due to all three girls being so young and all in diapers, daycare costs are ridiculously high. So, I stay at home with them during the day, and go to work in the evening when my husband comes home. This is not ideal, but somehow we make it through.
My dreams that night had me waking up in tears. Nothing excited happened, per se, but it was blissfully mundane. We were a happy family in which every aspect of our lives flowed seamlessly. We ate every home-cooked meal as a family AT the table.
Our family has gone through so much, especially recently. We’ve never had a steady pace, never had the chance to get into a routine. In that dream, along with the happiness, was a deep-seated yearning. I want to be a stepford family. I want to not have an upheaval every other week.
It doesn’t take much to be able to read this dream. I’ve had similar dreams my whole life. I crave consistency, routine, but being bipolar strikes a harsh line through that fantasy. I understand the struggle I will face every day. The struggle my family will deal with every day. We may one day come close to that dream. I will eventually figure out what I want to do with my life career-wise, the girls will be in school, and my husband will still be teaching. It’s in our grasp, but on days like this, it feels unreachable.
Days when my mood is wild and unpredictable, my emotions even more so. That’s when these dreams hurt the most. Because it is a dream. A perfect future.