Well hello again!
I’m back in action. I think it’s very plausible that I haven’t even signed into my blog site in a few months. I guess this is what a whole lot of work does to you.
The little one has made it to LA for a very merry xmas there, and me? Well, here I am enjoying the rain and a sleepy little dog who likes to keep me company.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about being a woman, a single parent, a single mother. I think the most important part though is my reflection on being a woman. When I was twenty I thought of my identity like a mirror staring back at me, whatever I saw, that’s what I was. It was so important for me to reflect an image that was accepted by others, but who I was never really made sense to me. At thirteen, I knew exactly what I wanted for myself, my life, my career–I had it all mapped out. But somewhere along the way I lost that identity, those hopes, my dreams, and I got caught up in following the world around me. I built a “me” out of others hopes, dreams, desires. I’d find myself plucking portions of those around me for my own construct; however, before long there was nothing left of my original “hoped for” identity. It wasn’t until one day I woke up, freaked out, and realized, “who am I?” I was not me. That was hard. It was a difficult journey back, erasing all those rented portions, giving them back to their rightful owners. I had to essentially reintroduce myself to the world and then befriend, again, all those pieces of me that were put into hiding for so long. It was a journey, but I feel like I made it back to the path I was on at the start, unimpeded, ready to go for it.
I am so thankful for the experiences that woke me up to reality. Sometimes I feel the majority tugging at me, wanting me, but then I pull back from that axiom and realize I have to be just me. I look at friends and family and see so many struggling with the same exact thing. They don’t know it, but it’s there. They just want to feel accepted, liked, loved, whatever it is.
I took a minority lit class and found it interesting how applicable the material was/is to me–a blonde haired, blue-eyed, caucasian. The minority flees the majority, it never allows itself to be the construct of any one thing or multiplicity of things, it is “nothingness,” but in it’s nothingness it’s interestingly everything it wants to be to itself. The minority is true and overwhelmingly aware of its direction.
I feel that way now. I feel like I am in constant flight of any one construct. I live to be just me. I am the type of woman I want to be, the parent, the single mother. I don’t situate myself by the image I see in the mirror, not anymore. That is so freeing.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, be you.