I find myself in a very strange place. I’ve been on my own for three years now, yet
I constantly feel as if I’m starting over.
I want to be there for my children, but when we spend time together, I’m
reminded that they are now grown men, men who have deep voices and shave and
can go into bars….when the hell did that happen? I know I put a lot of my own life on hold so
I could make sure they made it to this point, and I’m trying to reclaim that
part again. I realized a few days ago
that I’m experiencing the effects of arrested development -- I
find myself trying to pick up where I left off at the age of 23, and I don’t
think that’s working out quite like I expected.
But on the other hand, I have a LOT more time to devote to myself and my
interests, without having to rush off to marching band performances or pay for
trips to Hawaii. And it’s not that I
have any regrets about the time and money spent on my boys – I wouldn’t change
any of it! I mean, come on….they went to
Hawaii! I’ve never even been to
California.
I’m trying to change my mindset. I don’t need to take care of anyone anymore,
not even a spouse. That gives a lot more
time to turn my attention towards ME. I
feel slightly selfish for it, too. And
terrified. My inner dialogue becomes
something like this:
“Hm. Ok, where did I
leave off? Man, I was in great shape
when I was younger -- let’s see…..OH MY GOD!!! WHAT IS THAT???”
Yeah, it’s not pretty.
I do have a little bit of an excuse there – the ex would lose his mind
if I tried to lose weight or get into shape.
He was convinced that the only reason I wanted to get into shape was to
find someone new so I could leave him.
In addition to not being able to lose any weight, I ended up gaining a
total of fifty pounds because of that.
And since I’m older now, it’s a lot more difficult to get all that goo
off of me.
It’s not just the physical stuff, though. I didn’t realize how off-kilter my mental
state had become. Every day, it becomes
clearer to me. Oh, yes, I am working to
fix that, too. For a while I was
concerned that occupying myself with dance and music was just a way to escape
who I am, but I’ve come to realize that those things ARE who I am. The fat, depressed basket-case is still
lurking somewhere just around the corner, but she’s getting further and further
away.
I suspect my renewed sense of nostalgia comes from remembering
my old self. It’s actually a good thing
to be able to feel that part of myself again.
It was gone for a long time. I
couldn’t find any real joy in the changing of the seasons and I’m very grateful
to have this feeling again. A part of
the healing process? I believe it is.
