Diving in...

I have played with the idea of posting again, and dismissed it repeatedly. Partially because I haven't felt like I had time; mainly because I have felt my life to be so completely out of control that I was afraid to try to label even a moment of it for fear that somehow that moment would be jinxed. Not that it has been all bad--let's just say that I am growing, and growth at my age can be very, very painful.

Pieces of me that I thought were dead and buried were actually only dormant, and with some attention were ready to sprout hopefully toward the sun--only to be crushed yet again. My babies were wounded while I helplessly stood by in total ignorance. Loved ones were actually people I realized I never even knew. Lifeboats sprung leaks. All in all, it has been painful--like the slow ache of a chronic disease--most days tolerable, some days damn near unbearable. I can't decide if the world is in slow motion and I am spinning out of control, or if I am slowly oozing away and the world is whizzing by me. All I know is that I am disconnected.

Yet, there have been moments of peace; of beauty and happiness and rest. Nothing sustained and nothing that felt solid, but glimpses: rememberences of the illusions I called security, love, self-assurance, safety. Illusions, yes, but they felt real at the time. And so I stumble through the days trying to catch a glimpse of peace; to hold onto for just a fleeting moment--or day--or week--that feeling of well-being. Realizing that I have to find it within myself; and looking within, seeing emptiness.

So, I have filled my hours with busy-ness, and with solitude. I have taken wonderful trips, made some great memories with my friends and kids, given selflessly to any and every cause I thought needed me. I have given myself gifts, taken up a new and long desired hobby, found a new exercise routine. And I wait. Hoping, every day, for an epiphany of just what it all means. And what my role in it is supposed to be.