Ego, Egads! (an embarrassing confession)

I am struggling with envy of late. Envy and ego swirled together like a hard candy found in cupboards of little old ladies who still dress up on Sunday.

I spoke with my brother the other day, and he told me about all the amazing things he's doing, how well the show is going, how much he loves Sydney, etc. And don't get me wrong... I LOOOOVE my brother and I am so, so, so very proud of him for pushing toward his dreams with full strength and actually reaching them. It's amazing.

But there is a part of me, every single time, that starts to jabber away about how I gave up... about how my life is not exciting or filled with trips to other countries or amazing, beautiful dreamlike creativity. About how Andy and I struggle to make ends meet even though we're in our mid-30s and we still express discontentment and extreme confusion as to what we want to be when we grow up.

And we are still not sure if we have grown up, or are grown ups.
(I suppose if you have to ponder and ask, then the answer is no.)

I miss my artistic life, but I also remember how bad the fit was when we finally left and went in search of a new direction in order to fashion a different life. But I often feel my family is more impressed with his successes than mine, and I often wonder what would have happened if I had been more confident and less apologetic in my pursuit of an artistic career.

And so here I am, struggling to live in the now, except that the now contains jealousy and self-upbraiding... and a small little whisper of failure in the back of the throat and the pit of the stomach.

I don't know many people who have achieved their dream. My brother is one, which makes him incredibly special (and it helps that he's generous, funny, easygoing, and insatiably curious to boot). I think much of my dis-ease comes from not entirely knowing what my dream is.

So today I wander, a little lost, and still quite grateful - but doggedly looking for an answer to a question I still don't know how to ask.