I just wanted to say thank you for all of the positive feedback from my writing post earlier in the week. I write and think that I am the only one that reads my essays and poems. I replied to a few comments regarding how encouraging everyone at WordPress is and short of having an online group hug, the thought of so many people writing for themselves gets me in a “good place”. Keep writing when you are moved to do so and I hope that one day I can return a good feeling to you, in the same way that you have given me a good feeling this week.
Two long years went by
What is new? Life seems unchanged
Then I remember.
Why did I stop? I wanted to write. I wanted to connect. I wanted the self-examination that comes with writing and sharing and producing and reflecting. Why did I stop writing? Why did I stop reflecting? Did “life get in the way”? A cliche, but everyone uses the excuse.
Why did I stop? I want to write, to think, to ask questions and to find the answers that only come with devoting time to finding the correct words. The enriching vocabulary that produces the sounds and perfect tone to a piece of meaningful composition. I needed to think. Writing helped me think.
Aha! That is it! That is why I stopped writing! Writing helped! It focused my thoughts and gave me a purpose when I thought that I had none. My job, my loss, my seemingly directionless professional life came into focus. Maybe my writing appeared in different ways, not the blog that was the haiku and the photographs and the short rants. Maybe the resumes and the cover letters and the emails and the proposals and the new connections.
I never stopped writing. Eureka! The thought hugs me. My guilt about neglecting my blog evaporates. I know now, that I did not stop writing. Writing did connect me, it forced my self-examination. My product was not for consumption for this elite band of blog writers. It was for consumption of a band of professional people who are helping to determine the course of my career. The writing was for me, so that I could find a direction and then return to my writing. My writing one day at a time when I need the reflection and the time to think.
Maybe you never stopped writing. Like me, I wrote tonight until I was clear-headed. Neglecting two different tasks that seemed important when I set up on the dining room table with my laptop and hot tea in hand, flannel pants on, flip-flops rubbing the sort-of-clean wood floor beneath my feet.
When will I start looking for a new perspective instead of asking myself why did I stop?
Three posts in one day? Obvs I am a little cray-cray for Word Press tonight.
1. Maya Angelou worked with Malcolm X, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, and read at the Inauguration of President Clinton. I only read one book by Ms. Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. That being said, I still cannot get over the first fact.
2. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Zafon are fantastic companion books.
3. My 8th graders CAN and DO write fantastic poetry. The best are the sonnets.
4. Last week, I decided that I may have a t-shirt that has magical powers. My Team Curtis t-shirt, a reminder of how brain cancer can both destroy a family and connect strangers, centered my thinking, gave me the articulate words I needed and helped me to build a confident presentation.
5. I hate hearing that people I know are getting a divorce.
I run and find the best in me..and you.
I want to, need to, desire the best.
The comments are many, I need my truth.
Fatigue and anger, my thoughts need some rest.
Is it a dilemma, a riddle, yet
The lines are blurred and I look to my quest.
It is the end of another school year. My last day of working for the current school year is just weeks away. Have you ever known it was time to leave a job? I might be at that point. My husband graduated with his MBA two weeks ago, I am jealous when it comes to the amazing job prospects that are ahead of him. My prospects, I have a Master’s degree and more than 40 hours past, are dismal at best. I have a few bright spots. I found a very interesting part-time job this summer, that has the potential to stretch into the fall. My proposal for a charter school seems to be a “viable option” for the community. My winter seasonal affective disorder has lifted, allowing me to begin running again, last year at this time I was at over six miles, now, three is my limit. I press on and am in no way in dire straights.
So why am I so miserable? In the past blogs, I attempted to diagnose myself with job burn out, sadness over the death of my brother, longing for an understanding of technical Latin phrases and business jargon. I think that it is just middle age. I finally am at the point where I know that I don’t know everything. I know that I am far from my perfect self. I know that I am lucky in so many ways.
I struggle with the unknown and taking a leap. But, with each small step I take, I come one step closer to becoming the courageous person that I want to be. I persist. I dig. My path for the immediate future is known-take care of kids, find painter to fix chipped walls in the house, put cucumbers and zucchini into the garden. My path for the long term is still unknown. Maybe it is all the graduation nostalgia and hopeful quotations circulating on Twitter and Facebook about hope for the future, but I continue to saunter down a line where I sway between desperation and almost fanatical optimism.
Does that make any sense? Maybe, it does not have to.
1. I am not responsible for the happiness of others.
2. Just because you may not be happy at your job, does not mean that you should make it miserable for others.
3. The boss is a person, too.
4. Sit in bed when you are cold.
5. Winter will end soon.
6. Writing is cathartic.
7. When things get hard, make a list of what you want from the next hour, day or week.
8. Read something, write something, draw something, talk to someone.
9. Kiss someone.
10. Find a hug, even if you have to beg.