**After I’d already written this post and scheduled it to go up, I read this post by DesignHerMomma.
And apparently there’s an epidemic of this because Jenny wrote about this, too.

A girl’s weekend of Bliss.

A surprise get-a-way with my husband.

Some time away from the kids and my volunteer job.

I needed those.

And in many ways I do feel rejuvenated, renewed.

I’m happy to be back with my kids.  They’re funny and adorable and super squeezeable.

But I’m not glad to be back to a schedule I can’t seem to keep up with,
deadlines looming over my head, and plans that desperately need to be made.

My house is a disaster.
I haven’t edited photos in weeks.
I finally finished my book for book club, and I’d like to start another one but I know I don’t have time.

While Marshall and I were on our mini-vacation, we had a lot of time to talk.
(We also had a lot of time to just be quiet and enjoy that comfortable silence that never happens in a house with 3 kids.)
We talked a lot about my feeling disconnected and out-of-touch with him, my friends, even myself.
As usual, he was kind and understanding, wanting to help me
but willing to give me time and space to figure it out on my own.
(Have I mentioned how much I love him?)
We talked about what was holding me back from being content.
We talked about depression.  And he and I both agreed that this time it’s different.
I’m not depressed, but I am out of sorts.

I think part of the problem is that I’m just tired.
I bit off more than I can chew.
I see that now, but I can’t stop.
I will finish my commitments.
I will do my best.
But in the future, I’ll take saying “yes” more seriously.
I’ll quit giving an automatic “yes” to every request.
I’ll start pausing, thinking.

Someone once told me that you don’t really find yourself until you’re 34.
That’s her opinion, and I don’t think it’s true for everyone…
But I have to admit that I’m wondering if she didn’t have a point.

I look back at how much I’ve changed since we got married,
since Marshall started med school,
since I became a mother,
since I moved back to my hometown.

And I’ve looked at my mentors and heroes for inspiration about who I want to become.
And I’ve read scriptures that I hope guide my way to becoming the woman I want to be.

I’m not who I used to be or who I want to be.
And maybe that’s a good thing.

Apparently I only have 3 1/2 more years to figure out who I am.