Wednesday, September 30, 2009

A Writer

Since I am not taking any classes this semester, I have a hard time answering when people ask, "What do you do?"

I keep house.

I care for my husband.

I read.

I raise a kitty and a puppy.

I jog.

Mostly, I write. Does that make me a writer?

Can I say, "I am a writer." without being a fraud, without feeling like a fraud?

I haven't published a book. I don't write regularly for anyone but myself. I don't get paid to write. Am I still a writer, just an as yet unrecognized talent?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why does what we do matter so much socially? What kind of a question is, "What do you do?" I often want to answer,"I live." An unexpected answer to what I think is a semi-ridiculous question.

I am ultimately more interested in the who's and why's and how's than the where's and what's.

Maybe I am a writer after all.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Dr., Dr., Give Me The News

I consider myself a pretty healthy person. I am vegan. I jog/walk 5 or more miles a day. I (mostly) make things from scratch instead of buying processed foods. I go to therapy for mental health.

Pretty healthy, right?

A couple weeks ago I went to the eye doctor.
"Your eyes have stayed the same." she proclaimed.
"Really? This is the first time ever that my eyes haven't changed." I was giddy!
"Well, you are ol... I mean, at a certain point, around your age, it's normal."
Horrified, I was. Old? She stopped just short of saying I'm old? Wow.

A few days later, I was at my new OBGYN.
After the normal pleasantries, she said, "So, you are 28."
Then I heard a stranger with my voice say, "Yes." Like, it was normal. Automatic.
My mind questioned this stranger, "Really? You are 28? How, when did this happen?"
We talked about the possibility of difficulties and dangers of getting pregnant. That, with my health history and age, I should do it sooner rather than later, if it is something my husband and I want. It was then that my mind caught up with the stranger, and slowly accepted that "Wow, I am an adult and my age is ever advancing and with age comes physical changes even if my mind and heart are still 5 years young. I have some serious choices to make."

Sitting in bed with the diagnosis of Bronchitis that has come after two weeks of coughing non-stop, I've been sewing itty bitty things for itty bitty babies that my friends will be bringing into this world soon and feeling nothing but joy. Then I heard it, a faint whisper of hope, a baby's cry, "I'm coming. Just ask for me, pray for me and you could be my mom."

I may be getting older, but my life isn't over. In fact, I could still be immortalized by a child if I wish, if I chose, if I pray... and I may.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Unrequited Love

Pierce looks at Iris.


Iris looks at Pierce.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Oh, Baby!

It seems everyone around me is pregnant these days. Our upstairs neighbor is due in December. My darling Alison is having her second in January. My sweet friend, Irma, is due in February.

Melissa of "Everything I want to tell you..." is giving away a gorgeous maternity dress from Shabby Apple's Mama Apple collection.

I know that this is a dress any one of them would love to cover her growing curves with.




Enter here!

Honestly

I am an optimist. I look for the good in every day. I strive for positivity.

Lately, I have struggled to stay optimistic, see the good, and stay positive.

So, I haven't blogged.

My blog is supposed to be a happy place, a positive space. Why infect it with my struggle? Why subject all of you to my darker places?

I believe there is good in everything, that is why. Maybe if I am honest with myself and with all of you, something good will come out of it.

Honestly?

I am three classes and a thesis away from earning my bachelor's degree. I don't know if I want to continue.

After a year in therapy, I stopped going at the beginning of August. I now realize I need it even if it feels like I am going nowhere or wandering in circles some of the time.

I am unsure about everything these days. At least a few tears fall every day.

Still, the optimist in me still gets me up and out of bed every morning with a "Keep trying and it will get better."

Honestly.