I don't know what's up, but the last couple of weeks I've been fighting off some feelings of discouragement. Now, don't be alarmed. Thankfully, it's been over a year now since I got my meds adjusted and was able to leave a 2 year depression behind. I'm not depressed like that (and so thankful!) But, sometimes, every once in a while, despite how ridiculously BLESSED I am, I get a little discouraged.
I have dreams. I think most people have dreams. Some people are actively living theirs, others are working toward them, some are just aware, and a few may not even know of them. But they are there. Dreams are there, buried deep, deep in the innermost tiny back closet of one's heart. They may be locked so tightly and bound with the strongest chains, but they DO exist. To dream is to be human. If not for hoping for something better for ourselves, our families, our world, then there would be little point in existence.
So, even though I used to actively try NOT to dream (it was too disappointing to do so), over the last several years I've allowed myself to believe a little bit again. Bullied by life's rough school of knocks, I learned to armor myself against the hurt of failure, disappointment, and loss. I didn't have the tools to handle these feelings that seemed an ever-present reality. But now, now I've grown some. I have a loving and kind husband who teaches me that there IS a reason to hold out hope - despite whatever odds one may feel she is facing. I have been blessed with kind and caring friends who have helped open my heart to art, and in doing so have inadvertently opened a door of vulnerability and rawness - both of which are necessary (in my humble opinion) to live creatively. Now, though I still struggle and am far from where I'd like to be, I have more coping skills for dealing with those failures, disappointments, and losses. Part of living a creative life (though admittedly, only part time), means learning to love the beauty in nearly everything; learning to accept flaws as part of the completed project, and having joy in the creation rather than just the finished product. That doesn't apply to just art itself, but the very essence of living. I have learned to be a little more gentle with myself, to accept my weaknesses. No, not just accept them -but almost embrace them - for they make me who I am, for better or worse.
All that being said, I've still been fighting off discouragement. I feel alone in so many ways. I want to have a child(ren) someday. I'm 38 and I may not get to. I may even get too old to adopt a child. And, even if I did/do, I'm going to be in SUCH a different place than my peers. Most people my age have children in at least their teens, and some even entering college this year. I haven't even begun. If I adopt by the time I'm 40, I'll be nearly 60 by the time that child is graduating high school. Imagine a 50 year old at "Mom's Club" with a bunch of early twenty to thirty year-olds. I'm going to be the oddball, just as I am now.
I feel alone because most of my friends have families that take up the majority of their time. I understand and heartily agree that family comes first. But, at the same time, I often feel like they are too busy with their lives to have time for me. I love my husband, but he is quite the introvert and I often seek outside friendships to help fill the conversational void. Besides, even the best husband can't do what a good girlfriend or two can. It's a special bond that women share.
Because I am outgoing (more extroverted by nature), I tend to be the one to invite others and get the ball rolling. I'm the planner, the organizer. I get it. If you're introverted, planning a get-together is akin to getting a tooth pulled. I try to remember that. But sometimes, especially lately for some reason, I just want someone else to put forth the effort. I don't want to be the one who always initiates things. I want to feel like others want to have ME in THEIR lives. But again, because my dreams are slow to fruition, I'm in a different place than them, and I can't fault them their busy-ness. I would likely be the same, if I were a mother.
So, that's where I am. I'm backwards from my peers. It gets lonely sometimes. Discouragement knocks. But, I must use the tools I've tried to develop to fight back - to remember that I DO matter, if to no one else, at least to my husband. I know it'll get better. It's just a temporary feeling. My happiness and zest will come back to me soon. I'm HOPING, anyway. Because, that's who I am now - I'm a person who hopes and dreams. I have unlocked my heart and I will push away the doubts and fears and keep trying to live a creative life, complete with blemishes, mess-ups, re-dos. One day my life's work may be the beautiful piece I envision it can be.
p.s. To those who read my blog - this is not an attempt to garner sympathy or "Oh, but we do love you"s. The blogging is for me to be REAL and PRESENT. It's for me - part of MY way of living a creative life.
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