It has been over a month since I added my thoughts to this page and I hope that I don't lose faith in this method of claiming myself as legitimate. I want to allow myself to post as life allows.
There are so many scraps of thoughts I jotted down that I want to share, so here goes:
I have been thinking a lot about belonging and find myself searching for a space to be me. I think of my mothers desire to simply be "needed" and "loved" and my similar craving. But the words seem to be passive and upon others to provide, so I wonder at changing the mantra to be an active work of needing and loving. To have needs, to ask for help to to love them is a way to participate in belonging.
One of the exercises in my journal writing book, The New Diary, is about writing about the here and now as a way of experiencing joy. Somehow, the act of engaging in a present moment is full of possibility and surprise and tends to make me happy. It makes me want to read Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creak over and over! Another suggestion the book provides is listing things that make me happy. I instantly think of hot drinks, great conversations about books, personal pains or stories of any kind. I also think of the rare moments where I get to "chew the fat" with anyone. Places to just do nothing and be nowhere and talk about anything that hits you. I want my life work to somehow be about engineering these moments of pure presence and noticing and living!
The amazing thing about journaling and my class is that the students are all brilliant. I had my preconceived judgements about people and each week I am blown away by stories, experiences, and the openness of others. It truly is remarkable to watch people commit to living in their own shoes and claiming themselves as important, regardless of how pleasurable or painful things might be!
After a recent class I mentioned to a friend that I was boring and had nothing to say compared with everyone else. I have felt that way in writing groups classes and various social situations. I know that what I think becomes who I am, so this is only as true as how much I allow it to live in my brain. Further, my friend reminded me of my stories and shared how they were important to her. Seeing my classmates each week, makes me believe that I too have a lot to say and I need to keep writing to discover what is meaningful for myself and others.
I drew up a new clothing concept, as a way of trying to uncover my identity, and not just rely on scraps of clothes that are randomly collecting in my closet. Identity in connection with others is something I crave, like a puzzle piece trying to find its home in an ocean of possibly pictures. I don't need to keep up or try to fit in, but in the process of making decisions, I believe I can see myself as more consistent and grow into claiming my self worth.
I am embarking on the challenge of writing a novel in the month of November. It is a scary task to add to my journaling class, my mothering duties, holidays and the like, but I can't help but want to try. I have a character that I want to write about that would be my ideal self. I am dealing a lot with women's roles around men, women's voices and how to be an individual amidst egos and other's needs (does this sound familiar). It is fun to wade through my own issues with creative license to have anything happen. I am concerned about the time issue, as I have so little space! I may need help from everyone I know, my sister, parent's-in-law, husband, friends, babysitters. The trick will be to line them up, to give myself permission and consistency to get at it, without sacrificing quality time with all my boys (my never ending worry).
