A Little Left of Lost

TGIMFF. Ha.
All week long I practically ache for the weekend to come. I mean, my work week is not hideous, and for the most part, besides my child's never ending whining, clingyness, and cough, the most difficult part of my week is trying to figure out what the f--- I'm going to cook for dinner. Seriously, I have minor frustrations pertaining to my immediate family, and stresses surrounding being a parent. But other than that....
I can tell you all the blessings in my life. And I have many, I know.
A roof over my head (and a nice one, at that!). My health. My family. A good head on my shoulders. The ability to buy things I need and want. A healthy beautiful charming toddler. I have food, my bills are paid, I have a job......
blah blah blah, you get it. I am lucky, blessed, etc.
But. (you know there is always a but, right?)
So, when the weekend comes, I almost always feel a bit disappointed. Not to say that I am hard to please, or that I am wholly unhappy. I am happy, and I am not a difficult person to make happy.
However, for the past couple of years, I have had this feeling, that I haven't really been able to put my finger on. It has taken me about the past year to figure out that this feeling has a word, and that word is: discontent.
And funny, I've been thinking about this discontent this evening, and I decided I would go read some blogs, hoping to find something to make me giggle (it's usually not very hard). And I did find things to make me giggle, but I also found several blogs talking about being content. Content with life, content with her body, her husband, her job, her place on this planet. And I find it ironic that I am feeling so damn discontent, reading the blogs of all these happy-go-lucky beautiful women who are just so f-ing content. God surely has a sense of humor.
There are so many things that I am proud of, things that I love, people that I love. I am so very lucky. So why the hell am I not content?
I sometimes wonder if it has anything to do with being a Pisces? Or maybe it's just my personality in general? Or maybe I'm a whiny bitch? You choose.
I don't really know what it is, but it is miserable. It is what wakes me up in the middle of the night, out of a deep sleep. It is what nags at me during the quiet hours after everyone in my house is breathing evenly, and dreaming. It is what claws at me in the early morning, when I am trying to get out of bed to start my day. It wraps itself around my legs, and I get caught up in it.
And I truly have no idea why.
Like I said, I don't have anything major to complain about. My family is safe and healthy. I have some very good friends. I don't have a friend that just passed away. I don't have a sister recovering from breast cancer. I don't have a terminally ill parent or child. I am not ill. I am not alone. But this.... restless desire or craving for something one does not have....it is still here. Deep in my chest.