The past months have been crazy to say the least. It is amazing what craziness one can find without even looking for it. Three kids in grammar school, writing classes, teaching classes, and trying to keep the head above water all add up for one overwhelmed mama. Who knew? Also, there is an impending 40th birthday looming on the horizon.
Since just after Christmas when my son gleefully told me that I was now 39 and a HALF, a slow panic punctuated with fear has taken hold of me. As I have been reassessing my life and all the ways it is not going the way I intended, somewhere along the path, a few sprigs of hope and remembrance have popped up and reminded me that I actually relish in taking the "path less traveled." My mother's pronouncement years ago that I go to the beat of my own drummer had always been a source of pride. Recently, I had forgotten my own credo to life, my way, and who I was.
How could this happen? I am well educated. In my possession are very expensive pieces of paper that prove I have a BA in International Relations, Hispanic Studies and underachiever that I am, a minor in International Economics. I have completed part of the Gran Diplom from Le Cordon Bleu, I have a Masters in Spanish Literature with focus on 20th Century Spanish and Latin American feminist literature. In my spare time I have been working on a Writing Certificate in Fiction Writing. I ran a half marathon AFTER having three kids and having never run a day in my life before I signed up. I am tenacious, gregarious, and fun. I am a full time caregiver to three wonderful little ones, the CEO and CFO of our family, can speak three languages fluently, have a wonderful set of friends from all the different stages of life and all of the places this wonderful life has taken me, I have seen more travels than most, my husband is wonderful, and my kids are my joys. Yet, none of this seemed to fill the void of nothingness that was my very sense of self.
Part of this is self-inflicted. I have a bar that is set so high, only a giant could even reach it. I have forgotten that the nitty gritty of living is what I have been doing for now. We once had a very exciting life, and right now maybe I just need to deal with the fact that I am not going to live the life of Reilly. I can remember what that once was. I can mourn the life the was so fun. The travels, the spontaneity, the joie de vivre. If I get caught up in that though, I will miss the quirks that make life fun. I will miss the rigidity of my son's life which has taught me that sometimes having a plan is OK. I will never be able to be as his Asperger little brain wants me to be, but I can start to have a plan. I can write things down, I can anticipate the spontaneous parts of life. Most of all I can savour what my children bring to the table. The little bits of wisdom that they unwittingly are teaching me. And I can learn to surrender to my destiny. I think living this life joyfully will encourage the freedom to enjoy life, versus the kicking and screaming I have been doing.
Most of all, I have to welcome myself back to the treadmill of life. I have set a new goal for the rest of this month: A minimum of 30 minutes a day on the treadmill with my spiffy new sneaks. The reward at the end of this endeavour? A lovely manicure...
So, won't you join me in treading back to life? Comment if you want to join in... we can virtually lean on each other and find the happiness of life, and a joy for life.
No comments:
Post a Comment