Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

"Mom, one day I want you to live with me" I would often say to my mother when I was a child.

"You come live with me and Daddy and I will have plenty of room because I will live in a mansion" I would say
"How are you going to live in a mansion?" my mother would always reply.

"I am going to marry a rich husband!" I would tell my mother with all the determination a 10 year old could muster.
She would wipe the curls from my face and give me the look that meant she didn't think I could do it.

I would do it and prove her wrong I would tell myself.
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I knew I never wanted to be a grown up. While my friends were all wishing they could be adults and have ice cream whenever they wanted and stay up late, I knew what being a grown up was like and it didn't look like any fun.

I was right.
The hardest part of being me these days is trying to figure out where it all went wrong. I had plans, aren't you supposed to have plans? Why is that mine never worked out?

The life I woke up with today is the polar opposite of where I thought I would be when I pictured 35.
I pictured a medium sized house that I owned, a manicured lawn with many flowers that were always blooming. I saw a turret and four kids, living down the street and around the bend from my family. I envisioned play dates with my friends from school and their children, lots of arts and crafts with no worries of glue or permanent marker and a homemade snack sitting on the counter waiting for my children to return from school.

I never once saw me tired from constant stress, worried about how much I can spend on groceries this week or figuring out how people who are educated and want to work can't find jobs.
I never thought I could not make my vision a reality.
I never thought it could get this bad.
The nights are the hardest. That is when E gets down and I have to pick him back up even though I have no desire to. I want to wallow too.
I want to yell and scream and kick and cry, the ugly cry that wracks my body with convulsions of tears. Sometimes I feel like I have cried every last tear and my body can't possibly produce more.
Then I fall into bed exhausted. Spent. Emotionally drained.

That is when I pray for the darkness of sleep to wash over me so I can dream.
In my dreams I have roses of all colors growing on my white picket fence, the fence that I own and there is no reason to cry anymore.