Purpose Passion and Other Such Mythical Creatures

Lately my life’s purpose has weighed heavy on my mind.
What am I supposed to be doing?
What will make me feel fulfilled?
How can I leave a mark?
What is my passion?

I’ve been raising children for the last 12 years. They have been my passion, my reason to wake up, my happiness, my purpose. But I cannot put all that onto the backs of my children for one day they will be grown and they will stretch and find they have outgrown me and they will move on.

I don’t want to feel like I’m losing myself when they’ve moved on with their own lives or any such other way that comes from having nothing important in ones life other than her children.

Maybe either way I’m selfish. Maybe I’m supposed to focus on my children and then quickly shift into my next calling when that chapter is through. Maybe I’m just supposed to know how to take it all in stride. But right now, in this life, I need something that is mine.
I need to feel like I’m working towards something.
I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.
I’m scatterbrained and impulsive and flighty. I dream sooo big that I depress myself because some things just cannot be so, no matter how hard you wish it or dream it or want it. I don’t think I have roots, even though I’m the most grounded person I know.

Perhaps I’ve surrounded myself with flighty dreamers.

I call myself a realist.
By realist I mean that I have an abundance of expectations and hopes and ambitions, but I’m scared to death. I am scared that I will fall. That I’ll be ridiculed. That I’m selfish and wrong.

I worry that I simply just want too much and it is like wanting the moon. You long for her and she fools you into thinking she’s all yours, but every other person wants the moon too and not a single one will ever have her.

I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.
But I sure as hell hope I figure it out before regrets catch up with me.