Goodbye...

I've let something manifest itself in my mind and in my heart and it has gone on long enough that now I realize, for my own sake, that I have to let it go. I think I've tried to avoid the whole "midlife" crisis thing for the past couple of years to the point where I just haven't let myself accept that this is where I am in my life and that I have to keep moving forward. I give lip service to this notion, but I don't think that I've really accepted it. The funny thing is that I'm content with who I am and where I am, but there are things about my life that I am having a hard time accepting; that I don't want to accept. Like making a list of goals and dreams; things to accomplish as you grow up, only to find that, all of a sudden, you are running out of time and that, those desires, those goals if you will, you suddenly cannot achieve or cannot accomplish anymore simply because you are of a certain age.

It never goes away; the longing to be a certain way or to have certain things or to be chased or loved or desired. It's very much like having a conversation with a stranger; they see you, in that instant and there is no baggage, no additional criticism or doubt or analysis; they just see you and they listen and... they hear you. I don't like to generalize and I really hate stereotypes, but there is something about being a woman, growing older, wanting the same things as when you were younger, but also, changing psychologically, biologically, emotionally; watching that shift happen and part of you wanting to stop it and yet, not entirely wanting to stop it. I don't want to go back, I don't want to be a teenager again. But I do, often these days, long for the simplicity of going out for a night with no concern but for myself, of anonymity, of recklessness of the kind of abandon that is reserved for the young and ignorant. Making bad choices and yet having the kind of experiences that one can only share much later on, knowing that if that information got out, one might be grounded for the rest of her natural life. I suppose there is a part of me that wishes for more time, but a bigger part of me only wants it if it is meaningful time. I don't want to feel trapped or tied down or longing for places and people that I'll never see or who I can never have. It's frustrating and annoying and ultimately, futile.

I want to accept life and people and the time frame that I've been given, but a huge part of me fears that if I do accept it and when I do, then really, what do I have left? Accept what you are and then, what? Exist. I no longer want to just exist. I want to fall in love with life every single day for however many days I have left. I want to fall in love with ideas and people and places and pictures and the simple notion that however I was raised does not ultimately and solely dictate how I live out my life. I want my children to know that although they have to live by certain rules in order to function in this society, that, they can choose to live however they choose and that the only real rule that they have to follow is that one day they will have to answer for their choices. They control their choices and those choices don't have to fit a mold or a frame that was built by someone or some ideology that was out of their control.

A real gift, one that I would consider a gift is one's ability to let things go, to forget, to forgive, to, again, accept how things are without any kind of preconceived notion and at these, I am inept. I have an extraordinarily difficult time letting go of the past, of my desires; especially those that are the most harmful. I keep it all inside and it begins to manifest itself as something else. Outwardly, it shows up as irritation, impatience, boredom, even sadness sometimes and then I attempt to counter those feelings by trying to do something useful or helpful, maybe do something for someone else.

Ultimately, I know it is about finding balance. I don't want to wait for the day when someone isn't walking behind me saying "Mom, Mom, Mommy" in my ear and yet I already know that I will miss it terribly when that sound goes away. Part of the parenting conundrum I suppose is that we want it to be both ways and we can't have it both ways. Like so many things, we make choices. I've made choices and, as with my children, I have to live and then answer for thsoe decisions. That I can accept. Maybe in finding the balance, the new age "zen" that helps people to focus and center, I have to acknowledge that much of life is spent in bondage of some kind (get your mind out of the gutter for a second, well, mine went there too). When we are young, we are bound to our parents, our families until we go out on our own. And then, it's school, work, partners, spouses, marriage, mortgages, bills, religion, laws; something is always binding us to some "thing" or some "one" or some "place." I feel like I'm in a box, maybe an empty refrigerator box because my life is big, very full so to speak, but a box nonetheless. All the sides are connected and if I break down one, the whole thing loses its shape and then, is it still a box by definition? Is it still my life or will it have become some strange new shape, defined by nothing more than the fact that it is different than what it was...

Youth is currency in our society and no matter how much I want to dispel that notion, I am still surprised by how one's face or body can dictate a conversation or a relationship and yet, how many people are overlooked, people who are beautiful and interesting and unique, but who don't entirely posess that "thing" that we are trained to see as "beauty." I am realizing, as I age (you don't know how painful that is for me to type), that it is painful to know that something that once defined how people saw you no longer defines you at all. Yet, often, if people give you a chance and they get to know you, you are reminded of how they looked at you when you were 18 or 25 and you remember what it feels like to be appreciated. I guess that's part of my argument for why life has to be lived strongly and fiercely, quickly even in the sense that I want to fill every day with more moments in which I feel that appreciation, for myself and by others. Because, if I'm totally honest with myself, it still matters to me how others see me in terms of what I want from them but, now, how they see me no longer defines how I feel about myself. Another benefit of maturity (not getting old), less insecurity, less self criticism; maybe not for all, but that's something to consider.

I told Nick yesterday that if I live to be 82, I've lived half my life. He paused and considered that for a second before astutely responding, "Well Mom, if you live
to 164, then you've only lived a quarter of your life." Hmmm, I didn't want to burst his bubble, but I think he realizes that I'm not going to live that long nor would I want to, but I like the way that he thinks. Ah youth; the idealistic, hopeful, delusion of ignorance. Bliss...