There has been a noticeable void of writing in my life for a while now. I have been writing for my clients, completing projects and deadlines but, in terms of fulfilling the need to express my own thoughts – the well has run quite dry.
A few years back, one of my children expressed unhappiness in having their adolescence on display in blog format. I completely understood that perspective and shifted gears in my writing towards my perspective, alone – leaving the children mostly out of the picture. But, when you work full-time as a mom and part-time as a writer, well, the best material is off the table. This entire journey prompted me to reevaluate what it actually means to be me. Sara. Myself. Not mother, wife. Just me.
After 20 years of parenting, 21 years of being someone’s partner – I am not certain I even understand the magnitude of “Finding Myself” on this life journey. I found myself a mother at 21, I found myself a teacher for years. Then, I found myself a full-time stay at home mom to 4. I found myself volunteering, cooking for other new mothers or needy in my neighborhood, I found myself working on menus for holiday after holiday. I found myself filling out college applications with my growing children and preparing to now find myself all over again.
I thought that writing for others while bringing some necessary extra money, would also be fulfilling and fun. I have always been passionate about the written word, the ability to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and tap into the deep-rooted thoughts I didn’t even realize I had. I watch my emotions come forth on the screen and often stop to reread, surprised that those feelings were even in there. It’s a daily exercise I practiced religiously like one does yoga, or drinks coffee (I still insist on this as part of my ritual). But, then it just stopped. The words stopped flowing, the emotions stopped filling. And, much like the body knows the mind, my stomach aches increased, my tension built and the frustration settled. I have not found myself, and at times, like my friends that share the same with me – we haven’t a clue where to begin.
The forties are weird. We begin all fierce and strong. Forty is the new thirty! Fab and Forty! We will grab hold and show the forties who’s boss. But, for my friends and I, the forties are also a fast reality check. One look in that mirror will show the lines creeping, the gray hairs multiplying faster than I can color them. Hips that seem to grow a life of their own, despite exercise and eating a multitude of foods I think way too much about before placing in my mouth. The forties mean half-done. Time to figure shit out. I feel the pressure mounting and I’m not sure where to begin my forties fixing and finding.
I recently read a book about a woman on her life’s search. She began with her bucket list and checking them off. Great idea, I thought! I’ve never made a bucket list. So, I began.
Sara’s Bucket List
- Learn to knit. Wait, do I really want to be that Grandma that learns to knit? Yah, I think so. Maybe. Eh. Keep it on the list but, not sure I really want this one. Anyway. On to…
- Travel Through Europe. But, this one is SO expensive. I hope that one day I can do it. If only we didn’t have those college tuitions…
- Conquer My Fear of Heights Can this one even be done? Not sure. Need to ask my shrink friend. Will come back to this one.
As I sat staring at my short and sad list, I realized I haven’t had the time to even get to know what would be on Sara’s Bucket List. I felt pressure to complete the list but had no idea what else I even wanted to accomplish yet. Maybe thinking about my goals for everyone else in my life for the past 20 years has left me a little bit depleted.
So, new Bucket List :
- Figure out what I want on my Bucket List.
Stay tuned, if you care…and feel free to share yours to spark some ideas!