hey, at least I'm blogging

A few nights ago, my son basically asked me why I was wasting my life. He said that I have so many gifts and that he is frustrated to see me so often sitting in front of the TV wasting my time and my gifts.

My 7th grade daughter recently questioned what I do during the day when she is at school. When I answered her with the truth - clean kitchen and house, laundry, grocery shop, cook, take care of the dog, stay on top of family needs and scheduling - she scoffed at the idea of my typical day.

I admit that Grace is right: I am beyond bored with my life. I also admit that Mason is right: I have been shut down for much of my 40’s and now it is difficult to see how to get out of my stagnation. 

I hate when old acquaintances ask me what I have been up to, or when new acquaintances ask what I do. Yet another sign to me that I am not engaged in my life.

It is not that I haven’t done things, because I have. In my 40’s, I earned my black belt, rode the Triple Bypass bike ride two times, I finished my book Diary of an Awakening and promoted it, I participated in Toastmasters and became club President, I went to counseling for the first time in my life (weekly for over 2 years), I organized a remodel of our kitchen and other parts of our house, and I have supported my children in all of their activities, including driving an hour away for dance these last three years. Oh, and I went through menopause. On paper, great little resume, but in reality, misleading.

I observe myself slipping into the idea that this life I have created for myself so far, may be it. (I am immensely grateful for my beautiful life and family, but I have not felt energized and alive for a very long time.) I don’t seem to have the energy level, the dreams, the motivation and drive of a “go getter.”  My friends who are high energy are a reflection to me of what I am not, and what I will never be, so why try? Honestly, it has been much easier for me to support my family in their dreams than to find my own vision. My family has been my chosen distraction.

But hey, I started to blog. Grace, add that to my daily routine list! And Mason, I’ve opened the door again to one of my gifts, at least I think writing may be a gift.

Is writing my gift? I have been too frickin’ afraid to ask myself this question since starting to write (creatively, not lawyerly!) at age 32! For the last 17 years, I have not faced my own internal struggle, a brutal tug of war game between one team “I am a writer” and the opponent “fool, you are not a writer!”

Sometimes, Team “I Am a Writer” wins: the times of writing when I feel incredibly connected to myself, savoring the experience of self-expression and of creation through words. 

Other times, Team “Fool, You are Not a Writer!” wins: the times when I feel writing is actually a grand waste of my time because not only does it take a ton of time, but also who the hell reads it, or cares?! Am I just being self-indulgent to think that what I have to share will make any difference in this world?

So I’ve started my safe little blog, one of the ideas being that I was journaling anyway, so I might as well put my writings out there just in case anyone is interested in reading them. A bonus is that I don’t think that you can really fail at a blog, can you? Unlike, say, throwing away thousands of copies of your book. 

From the sarcasm in my tone today, it’s pretty clear that I have work and healing to do around this writing thing (gift?) of mine. I know that it is not possible to create writing success when I am sending out conflicting messages to the Universe. How do I even define writing success? Am I willing to solely nurture Team “I Am a Writer?” 

Hey, at least I’m blogging!