where's the line

since 1979, i have written to myself to sort things out.

i had left my ex-husband and needed to figure out who i was, without his influence.

the theme of those years was clearly trying to find my own voice. 

i longed to be confident enough to live, as i called it, inside out. 

to let me be me, and to let go of approval seeking thinking.

did i ever get there? who knows.  but i don't care anymore so i think that's a good sign.  i am going to consider that as progress :)

the writings then seemed to turn to how to find a balance

between work and play, duty and adventure.  these were fun years. 

it wasn't an internal struggle for a voice, it was more of a constant quest for LIFE. 

the overwhelming need to appreciate the moment is evident in all the journals from my forties, into the fifties. i walked in the rain, rolled in the hay and played in the snow.  oh what a time it was.

and then, life moved on. my mother got sick and died.

all of the appreciation of the moment turned to fear of loss, longing for yesterday.

and bigger than all of that, how to go forward and

prepare for the end of my own life.  what would be my legacy? 

how would i live in my older years? would i be able to provide for myself? where would i want to be, who would i want to have been? 

 

these were feelings, not thoughts nor words. i didn't write in my journals.

i didn't read self help books. i didn't garden.

i worked. actually, i over-worked. 

and i took pictures. day and night.

i read blogs, i looked thru magazines, i watched hgtv.

i searched constantly.

for something, anything, everything.

for some reason, that gave me breathing room.  

 

as i think about it now, i think i was running.

running away, running towards...don't know.  

but subconsciously, i realized i needed to do, not think. 

however i'm not sure that i liked all the doing.

work pissed me off, at a level that it hadn't ever reached before. and that's because it felt like work was standing between me and LIFE.

 i wanted time to live my life. i wanted to own all of my minutes,

every freaking one of them. 

i knew at a deeper level that time was marching on.

giving away time - minutes, hours, days, weeks, years -

to work/lifetouch didn't sit well. they stole my minutes. so i stole minutes back.

i took pictures as i drove to work.

i took pictures at work.

i bought prop kits instead of setting goals,

i studied photography instead of sales results.  it worked for a while.

but now, today?  i am thinking no.

 

 

so now my writing, or my thoughts or my feelings, all end up at where's the line.

now i find i need to write about figuring out when is enough truly enough.

enough money in the bank to retire. enough years worked to retire.

enough trust in the future to say enough, and retire.

apparently, the key word is retire.

 

we bought our house at cape cod so we could live out our days there.

we thought it through - enfield had no draw for us except our jobs.

albany was home but it'd been 30 yrs since we lived there and

we weren't sure that it would be a joyful goal to go there. 

 it had a feeling of 'longing for yesterday' instead of living for today.

 

so cape cod was a great choice. it had a lifetime of history which gave it a feeling of 'home' along with a new twist - owning a house.  it did, however, add to list of to-dos. we DO more, instead of relax more. and this adds to the feeling of where is the line. where the hell are my minutes. i need more minutes.

 

i am an artist. i have been an artist since i was a kid.

i see things visually - from gardening, to photography, to hgtv.

i don't want to be a people manager. i don't want to be a sales manager.

i want to be - i AM - an artist.

 

so here i sit on a sunday morning, in late october.

ahead of me lies the crazy season at work when a 24 hr work day does not get the job done. and word is, this might be the busiest season ever.  yay.  just what i need.

but truth is, maybe this IS exactly what i need. 

a year that defines where that elusive line is.

where the commitment to work/lifetouch

clearly becomes more than i am willing to give.

the tug-of-war for my minutes and the confusion on where to draw the line is already taking a toll. i think that there's a break-through on the horizon.

and that makes me smile

 

so, come on santa claus, do your thing.

bring it on.

i think you might have a gift for me this Christmas.

and i just may be ready for it :)