Re: Cat picture – meet Cheeks, our kitten. She was laying beside me part of this morning as I wrote, cuteness overload – and given that today’s blog doesn’t lend itself to any particular image – I thought ‘hmm, she’s making her blog debut.’
It’s my second last day of daily blogging; after tomorrow I’ll be back at work and it just won’t be possible to give this the attention it deserves. I started on January 1st, one of my many new year’s resolutions.
I’m committing to one post per week going forward; I think that should be manageable, although it aches me to say this – one post per week – it feels like too little. But such is life.
I find it regrettable needing to step away from our daily conversations. You know it’s taken me so long to start this in the first place; years. It’s also required me to summon great courage, but not for others, for me. I showed myself the compassion I’ve tried to show every person in my life; listening, empathizing, reassuring myself that all is well. It’s quite amazing when we give to our own heart the love we give to the world.
The past is a complicated place for me – isn’t it for most of us? Not all bad, not all good, not all of anything. But I’ve seen it fuel people’s determination for a new life and I’ve seen it drag others under. What the past is to each of us is for each of us to decide.
I’ve decided my past will not define me. Nor will I allow it to suffocate me.
Thank you by the way, for reading these, some or all of them. Honestly, I appreciate it. It makes me feel seen and known – that’s been one of the goals of this work – to be seen, to be known, to be honest, and to heal. I’m happy that you’re here, in spirit, as I walked into the forest of my painful memories. I never needed you to tell me you were there; I believe in what I cannot see. And trust me when I say, we’re not done, if in case you’re thinking this post is my swan song; it isn’t. We still have a ways to go, which is awesome.
New Year’s Resolution number whatever done – seventeen days of writing, being vulnerable, speaking my truth, allowing myself to trust that I am safe in my story.
Oh, a funny thing about this Writer’s Retreat – I only discovered the website’s dashboard statistics a couple of days ago; you know… the number of visitors, pages viewed, etc. It actually hadn’t occurred to me to check if anyone was reading the blogs – I knew from my limited WordPress training that this information was being gathered, some sort of search engine optimization was being done, yada, yada, yada. Absolutely couldn’t have cared less. That’s not to say that engaging with readers wasn’t important, but I figured if anyone wanted to say something, they would, and if my writing just gave them a moment’s pause, a distraction, a mirror to their own life, that was great.
I guess in my mind I thought that I was engaging with everyone that was meant to be here; I don’t know, through the magic of the universe. The limited feedback I did get consisted of a few messages from readers who had shared experiences and appreciated seeing them put into words. Oh, and from my sisters and cousin who harassed me daily, “where is the next blog, we’re waiting”, through a family group chat – fun times. Otherwise, it’s been crickets out there; silence.
I still don’t really know if and what these posts have meant to many of you – and that’s okay. I hope whatever you’ve gained, that is has brought you happiness. That is all. As it has done for me. I’m very much okay with writing solely for the joy it brings me and…
See, just that alone is a departure from who I am. I am writing because doing so brings me happiness. Only me. I’m putting myself first, insisting on the time to focus and write, getting lost in looking through pictures and putting together stories. Isn’t that brilliant? Oh shit, I just realized this might be a sign of growing up – maturing – damn it (LOL), will need to rethink this entire endeavour.
Just kidding.
But yah, stepping away aches me a bit, but I’ll adjust.
I said to my sister yesterday “You know, if nobody else but you guys is reading this, maybe the kids read it fifteen years from now, it’ll have been worth it. I’m happier.” Hmmm, those words, ‘I’m happier’. This blog has been an unexpected gift; especially considering the often dreary topics. But I can report, as a result of the writing, I am happier, I am breathing easier, maybe, dare I say, sleeping a bit more.
Sure, sure, a part of my renewed hope is owed to the daily sunrise walks – these will continue come hell or high water – maybe it’s the fresh air, the bit of exercise this ‘sloth’ (LOL) gets, maybe it’s the peace that comes from standing in the truth of your own life and no longer being afraid that it can hurt you.
A quick story…
See, a couple of years ago I told a friend I thought I was in my ‘midlife crisis’, I just couldn’t hold myself together. I was crying a lot, feeling a tidal wave of memories crashing into me, giving whatever I had to give to my work (which I love), but leaving little for myself, and always staying busy so I never really had to face my stuff. Anyway, I was discovering it wasn’t possible to actually outrun one’s own life.
With all the love in the world, she turned to me, smiled, and with a gentle voice said, “Oh Dorota, it’s not a midlife crisis. It’s a midlife re-evaluation.”
“What, what’s a midlife re-evaluation?” I was laughing. We were sitting outside in the sun, a lunch break during a conference. “You’re beginning to ask yourself, ‘what is my purpose in this life?’”
I remember laughing and answering with something like, “yah, I’m still trying to figure out who I want to be when I grow up.” The plan however, if all went well, was that I’d never grow up.”
She laughed. “Just wait till you turn forty, you’ll love it.”
“Oh, how so?” this I needed to hear. “You’ll see, almost overnight you’ll stop giving a shit.” I was laughing so hard, this was some of the most welcome news I’d received in a long time.
“What do you mean?” She and I always laughed when we were together.
“You’ll just be you, finally comfortable in your own skin; you’ll stop apologizing for whatever crap the world has made you believe about yourself. It’s awesome over here.” She was already on the other side, lucky duck.
And she was so right… I can feel it now. Every day that I inch closer to forty, (139 days to go) I feel like the next chapter of my life will be wonderful. I will be okay. More than okay, I’m going to take a front row seat in my own life.
Ha, imagine, I’m about to bust a move (sorry, sounded way cooler in my head)… whatever, you get it, the masks are coming down.
