Saturday, September 26, 2009

Where I really figure it out in the end

I don't know that I have anything better to say now, then I did a few days ago when I threw up on here and then deleted it.
So, this is what I know, right now.

I'm tired, out of shape, out of balance, and longing for some time for ME. Time where no one wants anything from me, or needs me to be present, or "on". I want to sit and be mindless, or curl up with a book without interruption, or take a hot bath without having to rush through the warmth because someone, somewhere will need something of me soon.

I'm also incredibly lonely. I've always floated back and forth between being a people person, and being an introvert. So, before I had a child, I would do whatever felt right at the time. Now, It's always me, my daughter, and in the evenings and on weekends, my husband. I don't think I'd have much energy for doing anything big and exciting, but just the chance to hang out with another female who gets it, or gets the struggle of mommy life vs art life balance, would be incredibly nice. Or even any of my old art friends, would be great.. they could catch me up on what I've been missing and i could live vicariously through them. I don't have to be there anymore, just tell me about it, I can imagine. Tell me about the great art openings I'm missing, anything!!!

I'm feeling very sad, and teary. Sad, because everything seems so HUGE and I feel so very, VERY small. And unseen, and unsupported, unconnected and unheard. and un,un,un. ( and I don't mean these things from my husband.) I think for the last 11 plus years, I had tendencies to be (at times) very hard, very don't touch me, but since having a child, it seems like I need more support, more gentleness, more hugs, more connection, but it isn't there.
The reason for that (I think) is because we moved to a town that while it's beautiful and breathtaking in landscape, its human touch and connection to your neighbor is nill. I think the people here are very talk over the fence, and that's good enough. I don't have any real friends here. I have connections. I don't have anyone who I could call up and say, "I'm tired, and crying and could you please come hang out with me?" That is probably a bad example, but it's what came to my head. I don't have that here. I had that in vermilion, I had this incredible friend who saw me through my cancer issue, my miscarriages and various other life tragedies. Hell, I had that in IN... my childhood Best friend, I miss her so much. We still talk on the phone weekly, but phone calls aren't enough and plane tickets are too expensive when you can barely put food on the table.
In my utter loneliness, I find myself doing and thinking the oddest things. I find myself calling my mother more.. knowing she can't fix it, but at least she'll listen and missing my stepdad. Like in so many cases, we didn't really get along when i was growing up, but now that I'm an adult; I see all too clearly, that we are more alike than we are different. I think if we hadn't been so wrapped up in our own miseries during my childhood years, we'd have really gotten along well and been close. But thankfully we are close now; that counts for a lot to me.



Anyway, blah blah blah...
My point is, I'm tired, and lonely, and feeling very separated from my art life and art self. I feel like I might as well give up writing all together because by the time I will have time to write anything significant again, no one will care what I have to say. I think writer's are like actors, if you are gone for awhile, everyone just forgets about you. Mary, who? Which will eventually turn into Mary Who Cares? Or maybe this is the natural play out of what was supposed to be... maybe I didn't have any real talent to begin with and no one really cared to begin with.

There isn't much that is going to change around here anytime soon, so I guess I'd better just stop bitching and do what I tell so many others to do. Change it, accept it, or shut up.

1 comment:

Adventures In Babywearing said...

Mary, I feel the exact same way.

Steph