December 04, 2012

Brick by Brick

I've been doing much introspective pondering lately...not that there's really much of any other sort of pondering for these days.

I read a blog, a wonderful blog - raw, gritty, real, and yet so poetic and beautiful...and she never makes me feel less, but rather leaves me longing to be able to share myself so freely.

Many years ago, 25 to be exact, I was told by a teacher that I had "promise"...a dangerous thing to tell a 12-year-old girl who had never felt special or unique, always being labeled "____'s little sister"...

I struggled through Junior and Senior High to be true to who I wanted to be and who I thought I was supposed to be - the Super Glue, the girl with all the answers, the girl you could always count on, rather than a girl who knew how to say "no", not because she wanted to be hurtful, but because she knew that sometimes you really can't do it all.

I know that my experiences are what made me who I am today.  Without those experiences, I'd be someone else altogether.

It's just that sometimes I feel as though there's a voice of a younger me, whispering in my ear "Why didn't you do something with that promise?  Why did you let the world spin you around?  How is where you are better than where you would have been?"

Don't get me wrong - I adore my life.  I love BB, and know without doubt that he is for me.  I love my children, and wouldn't trade them for anything.  I love being at home and being wife and mother, daughter, friend, neighbor...I love being able to structure my day around what I wish to accomplish, not accomplishing what I wish around what needs done.

I don't know if I'm making any sense at all here, I just know that some days, it's as though I'm in someone else's life, that this isn't real...sort of an "It's a Wonderful Life", or "Freaky Friday" sort of moment, where I've been plopped into someone else's world, and being a mother to three children, and a wife to a man who's job allows me to stay home and rear our children is completely foreign, uncomfortable, as though I've put on someone else's clothes that are too tight, constrictive, and I can't breathe, can't focus on anything other than the feeling of needing to escape.

Don't panic, I'm not going anywhere, that's just the feeling I get...

On those days, after those moments have passed, when I'm me again, I usually shake it off, brush it under the mental rug and ignore that it ever occurred...

But today's post by my favorite blogger, who has generously allowed me into her world, got me thinking about identity and changes, and wondering if because we're in such a different place now than we were 25, 20, 15, 10, even 5 years ago, are we still the same person?  Is it such a travesty if we're not?

She and I share many things about our lives...the fact that she was in school at CU while I was in High School and I know she was my waitress many nights of studying at the restaurant we'd frequent...but the dreams and passion for certain things that we shared...and how our paths crossed decades ago, and then, quite by accident, they crossed again just a few years ago...

Her comment today was questioning if our parents, who went through the true Feminist movement, how our lives are so much more like our Grandmothers' than our Mothers', and if they look at us oddly, as though we're crazy for choosing that which we have...days spent playing, cleaning, tidying, decluttering, cooking, reading, snuggling, tucking in children...and if we could ever get back that which inspired us 25 years ago.

And she quoted a favorite teacher in saying we simply had to approach life as a bricklayer - come back every day and and simply go brick by brick...

1 comment:

Inkling said...

Just thought I'd pop in and say that I've been missing your posts. I know it's only been two weeks, but it dawned on me just what a privilege it is getting to pull up a chair to your thoughts and hear what they have to say. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and some great time with family......hopefully without the chaos. =) xoxo