MY LIFE . . .

Several years ago, a dear friend told me I had a book inside me.  I have been pondering this thought for a long time.

Recently, several other friends have expressed similar observations, so once again, I am pondering.

I mean, what would I have to write about that others might find interesting?  

My conclusion . . . it doesn't matter if others find it interesting, or if anyone even reads this.  What's important to me is that I just start writing.  If nothing else, it will be cathartic.

So here goes . . .

If I were to tell you the story of my life it would be full of contradictions . . . high and low, good and bad, happy and sad . . . and everything in between.  The only constant would be inconsistency.

I once heard someone say "I was born at a very early age."  I adopted this saying as though it were my own.  I was so very clever as I found ways to fit it into my conversations.  However, now I am not too sure about it since I feel I have been born many times over . . . in this one lifetime!  So how do I start to tell you about me?  The most reasonable place would be to begin with things as they are right now.

As I sit and ponder the events of my life, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for everything I have experienced.  Each moment has been amazing . . . in retrospect.  But, while I was in the midst of living it, when I was immersed in the day-to-day happenings, life sometimes felt unbearable.

I often wanted to run away and not face any of it.  I lived in fear of so much that appeared before me.  At times I felt anxious, and went around frantically trying to keep safe by allowing myself to become distracted by "busy-ness."  But along with the incredible joy in my life, the feelings of never having enough, being enough, or doing enough were always there . . . a constant, nagging presence.

Things are different now.

The thoughts that used to keep me in a state of perpetual motion are still very active in my mind.  However, now I find that I no longer run away, or attempt to busily fill time and space, so they will subside.  In the face of the continuing barrage, I notice that I am experiencing a sense of calm.  I am also aware, and give more consideration to the other parts of me . . . the many other parts . . . that have been regularly sent to the back of the line to await their turn to appear center stage in the theatrical production that has been my life.

I don't know when it changed . . . or how.  I only know it did.  I could sit here all day ruminating over this. My best guess is that the change in my approach to my own thinking is due to my survival.  In spite of the many challenges . . . I am still here.  Those things I thought might kill me, fulfilled the words of the well-known saying by making me stronger.

The result of all of this seems to be that I am more allowing of my own very human self.  And, in doing this I find that I am also more allowing of the faults and foibles of those of you I encounter along the way.  I feel more connected to everyone around me, and I am discovering that no matter what I have done to try and hide my true nature from the world, it is there . . . as it has always been . . . and I suspect, always will be.  It is so simple . . . it is love.

UNCLE . . . and thoughts about the weather!

UNCLE!  A phrase used to indicate that someone has had enough . . . and I have had enough!  Or so I think.  I have lived 58 years, and there have been times when I feel like I am about to break under the pressure of life.  Today is one of those times.  I am weary . . . in fact, I am downright exhausted.  Sometimes I wonder how I keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I want to go home, climb in bed, shut out the world, and catch up on 35 years of too little sleep.  If only I dared.

But that is the problem.  I don't dare.  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I have a belief that the world will fall apart if I stop doing what I do.  I know this is irrational . . . the world continues in spite of who stays and who goes . . . and in spite of what I do, or do not do.  In fact, it seems a bit vain to believe that I am indispensable!  Though I know there are those who would miss me if I were suddenly gone, I also know that life would go on, and everyone would adapt.  So why can't I give myself a break?

They say stress is not good.  That is saying the obvious in an understated way.  Stress wreaks havoc on a person.  I am a prime example.  My health is deteriorating, my energy is depleted, and my usually sunny disposition is cloudy, with a chance of thunder storms.  Right now, the only thing I know, is that storms pass.  I have lived through enough of them to know that dark clouds dissipate, and the sun shines through once again.  But for now, maybe I should just find a corner to curl up into and allow the rain (tears) to fall.  It can be cleansing.

In the poem Yesterday I Cried, by Iyanla Vanzant, a woman sits on her bed and cries for all of the heartaches and regrets of her life.  Perhaps tonight I will sit on my bed and do just that.  I don't know if I will feel better for having done so, but the persistant Pollyanna inside me is reminding me that I will likely find something to be glad for among my own heartaches and regrets.  That the sun will shine again and that, ultimately, nothing can defeat me except my own negative thinking. 

And though I may cry UNCLE today, and face other UNCLE days in the future, I do trust that the valleys of my life help me appreciate the peaks that much more.  I know from my own experience that storms pass, and the sun shines . . . and that is enough to get me through this UNCLE day!