So, I haven’t written in a few months. Life has been hectic. Family, work, family, work, family, work…that has been my life. Am I complaining? Perhaps, in a way, I am. I love my family, but “the peripherals” can get in the way of peace. The frustrations of any working situation tend to build to the point of tearing one’s hair out.
Oh well, it’s a new year and let’s see what that brings…
For a long time, I was asked why I did not get into blogging. My response was that I did not want anyone else reading my private thoughts. Then, I thought if I wrote in code only I (or those whom I trusted) would understand, there would be no problems. Well, I just found the problems; or shall I say they found me.
The first problem is that writing has always been my form of therapy. When I put my feelings down in words, I am relieved of the burden they can place upon me. I did not need anyone to tell me that when I wrote my last post, “Melancholy”, I was depressed. Of course I was depressed! If I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t have written that post and I wouldn’t have titled it “Melancholy.” I felt like a weight had been lifted once I wrote it and read it. And, yes, I was depressed because I was home alone, on a very rainy day, and I had just heard a song that reminded me of a dear friend from the past who had died a terrible death 11 years ago without me even knowing. We used to perform the song together. And, in case any of you are wondering, he died of AIDS…a disease he feared when he first heard of it in 1980.
That brings up my next issue: I am a firm believer that everyone should be allowed to live his/her life the way they are happiest. Their lifestyles, political leanings, and religious beliefs are none of my business as long as they don’t hurt anyone else or me. Conversely, I do not want anyone espousing their beliefs to me.
I was particularly offended when someone did just that after reading the Melancholy post…especially today, the highest holy day in my religion. That is the point: it is my religion. I would not tell anyone to believe as I do, nor do I want anyone telling me how to believe.
I will now, once again, have to re-think this whole blogging issue. I have deleted the Melancholy post and I will have to ponder long and hard about continuing in this venue.
I have gotten to a point in my life when, for the first time, I really am not sure where my life is headed. When I was a child, I knew I had to go to school and get good grades because that is what I wanted. Then, I wanted to be a musical comedy actress, but I realized I was not tall and beautiful nor a terrific singer. So, I decided to teach drama (and English and journalism) instead. I knew I wanted to marry someday and, though there were many bumps (or mountains) along the way, I found my mate. I always wanted to be a mom, and then I was blessed with the doodle. Of course, I had longed to be a mother of two, but that was not meant to be. I knew, after spending many years teaching students, that I wanted to be home for my child. That is what I did, though I wrote for newspapers while the doodle was in school or attending dance classes. Now, she is entrenched in college making out her own list of dreams and desires. My mate has his own issues to deal with: professional angst, loss of parents, chronic (though very manageable) health concerns, etc. I feel as though I should not complain as I have it better than so many others, but left on my own, I find myself in deep contemplation. I think about the past and look to the future and a feeling of melancholy takes over.
The self-confidence I had built through accolades I had received while teaching and for journalistic accomplishments (though small by expert standards) has waned recently. Some are quite complimentary about my abilities. Of course, many are young enough to be my children or, at least, nieces and nephews. Others make me feel like I am some dumb blonde (forgive me if I am offending anyone of the fairer-haired population), though my roots would say otherwise. It could be the projecting of my own feelings on others. Who is to say?
That is my vent for today. It does feel better to write it all out. It may not solve the problem, but it lifts the load from the shoulders.
If anyone would have told me five years ago that I would be blogging, my response would have been, “HUH????” I hadn’t a clue what a blog was. Yet, here I am.
Who am I? That is a question I am constantly asking myself these days. First, I was someone’s daughter, then I was someone’s teacher, I became someone’s wife, and best of all, someone’s mother. For 20 years, my life was totally focused around motherhood. My daughter no longer has much need or time for me now that she lives on her college campus and has many social and extra-curricular activities.
I do not blame anyone for my sense of loneliness and lack of knowing my current place in the world. It is just part of the passge of time. I refuse to get too personal in such a venue as I am of the generation of women who kept diaries and journals at a younger age and hid them from all eyes except my own.
I am venturing into this new technological world as kind of a challenge to myself and to prove to some that I am not as technologically backwards as they may think. So, over time, maybe I will share bits and pieces of my life as an empty-nester, partially back in the working world, and entering those dreaded menopause years.
We’ll see…
