Have I spread myself to thin because I have many passions? Is the person who has one goal or one career or one life on to something? Or do they feel they are missing out?
I have tried to learn piano, I took up painting, I was a receptionist at a real estate company, a bartender, a secretary, a legal assistant, a student, an actor, a print model, a partier, a waitress, a loner, a socializer, a personal assistant, a girlfriend, and a commercial producer. Now I am happily a Production Manager and Producer and I know I have found my calling. I have a career. I have joined society and it has taken me a long time to get here. I am happy. For the most part.
Am I ever going to get out there and date? Am I going to find true love and get married and have a family?
I was in a 5 year relationship that didn’t always bring out the best in me. After the breakup I had missed opportunities at relationships that could have been the “one” and I turned away from them for the idea of someone else. Now eight years later. Yes, I know, how in the hell did eight years pass me by and I am still single? Well, it has and it has taken 8 years of being alone to get over the hurt, to stop the blame (it’s amazing what we can come up with to justify things).
I have girlfriends who are amazing at casual dating and casual sex. I am not one of these girls. Oh I have tried it.
For the past two years I have made a few friends that I have kept at a distance and for the sole purpose of being intimate. This has been perfect for the me that sincerely believed that she would never marry. That she was emotionally unavailable. A work-a-holic that had all her needs met and who needs a man? But let me stop talking in the third person. This is me after all. All of me.
I recently learned a great analogy from Steve Harvey. (Yes the comedian Steve Harvey). I have been fishing. Somewhere along the line I stopped caring about myself. I forgot that I was worthy of proposals (I have had a few), and that I was worthy of love. My energy attracted the men that fit perfectly into my little picture of myself. Let’s face it we were both getting something out of it. Right?
I’m done fishing for the sake of keeping the fish in the boat knowing full well that I am not going to take the fish home and keep them. Consider the fish thrown back in the water while I do another kind of fishing. One that comes from gaining back who you are and being accountable and specific of what your needs are and what you deserve.
My mother fell in love with my father when she was 13 years old. She never got over him. She dated and was proposed to (3 times) but she never said yes. Then she stopped caring and stopped dating and stopped taking care of herself. I watched my mother be alone after 15 years with my father until she died a few years back still alone.
Someone told me once, “You are your mothers daughter”. Well I can see from this pattern that I have been just that. Up until now.
I always thought that my life was an unfixable mess. A friend said to me once, “I love the way you are always reinventing yourself. You are such a survivor”.
So that’s me the survivor.
The survivor with one constant in my life. My words. I can take them with me. I can leave them behind. I can use them to uplift or I can use them for naught (which I choose not to do). I can give them away or I can keep them privately locked in a box in the far reaches of my mind.
My passion for words comes in many forms. But all of the forms are short form. Poems mostly. They are easy to finish. I have been working on a novel for what seems like forever and I have started some screenplays that lay impatiently waiting for my attention. These have not been so easy to finish.
I had a reading done and I was told that I was a writer in many of my past lives but that my words were used by the wrong people and therefore misconstrued by the masses. Apparently, the pain that was caused was so great that it has carried over to the present and leaves me unfulfilled and unfinished.
Enough. I can’t keep falling prey to the cop-out of what I might have done once upon a time in a land I am not even a part of anymore. There have been no earth shattering epiphanies from this philosophy.
My belief system of late is comprised of finding answers, changing my energy, and trying to stop the patterns. These patterns didn’t come from me. They came from my ancestors. An energy passed down through generations of fear, neglect and heresy. The cyclical life of my DNA has left me living in a colander. I’ve been drained of my sense of purpose. My sense of belonging. My sense of worth. This blog is me sifting through the nonsense.