Since I was a pre-teen, and emotions swept through me like the raging storm they were, I wrote. There is hardly an extended period of time I can remember, except when life was boringly easy, that I wasn’t expressing myself in poem, song, prose, story or journal. It came as naturally as summer breezes and winter frosts.
I am, at times, so abundantly productive that I literally lose myself in writing. Unfortunately, as easily, I lose the writings themselves. This morning I scoured my computer looking for a fictionalized story of my life that I began writing yeas ago. I found it (thank God I printed it out) when I was looking for the email list I lost – which was to be fodder for the sale of my memoir. Another topic entirely – to which I promise to return In time.
As I age, I get more involved with more dealings and I find myself less organized. Or perhaps it’s a memory issue. Anyway, I was looking on my computer for this fictionalized story because I was editing the hard copy and that was becoming cumbersome. I did not (of course) locate this story anywhere – on my hard-drive, in my documents, downloads, Microsoft word files, writing folders – but I did come across something else. Chapters of beautiful writing for my book that I entirely lost sight of, forgot was there, remembered I even wrote.
The heartache, the tears, the self-flagellation that took place – nah, just kidding. It was more shock, surprise and pride. I was amazed at how much and how well I could express myself. Then my pride turned to overwhelm. I sat starring at a computer screen of lovely words, and I wanted to crawl under my desk, like a child, and hide. From myself. Because I questioned my memory, my commitment to myself, my career, my future, what exactly I was doing. I was not proud now, I was frightened – because an old friend, rather an old energy, known by the name perfection – had found her way back into my unsuspecting brain.
Judging. Myself. Not an unfamiliar feeling, and I don’t usually measure up. Especially if perfection is hard hitting, which it is by definition (to say nothing of impossible to achieve). So, the healthy side of me chose to write about it in a post, bringing it into the light of day and out of the recesses of my enabling mind. And I feel better. A little. Because I see it for what it is (although the organization and memory issues are not un-disturbing), a blue dragon with fire breath that will never be satisfied. On the other hand, while imperfection abounds, I can still be pleased with small successes achieved and a talent I relish. Regardless of the outcome.
Wendy Karasin - Musings of a Boomer 
I love the way you accept yourself. I can relate to what you’re saying because I choseto take the same path. A pen and a paper can never fail you, tthey’re always there for you. That’s exactly why I started my blog too.
Thank you. It’s not always easy, and it may take some time, but eventually I do accept myself. My other choice is to drive myself crazy = which I have done in the past. Life taught me it’s too short for such nonsense and I’ve decided to listen. Thanks for commenting.
You’re right. I wish you the best. We think the same.
Oh wow Wendy– this completely struck so many chords for me, I feel like a player piano. I really love LOVE how you obviously made a conscious effort to end this, however….”Regardless of the Outcome!” Yes! It truly is the process, right? Process and Progress.. All we can ask for.
Hugs!
Thanks for responding Stephanie – you always seem to ‘get’ who I am and what I’m saying. It’s reassuring. Process and progress for sure. I’ll check out Boyhood, which I have not yet heard of…we may be slightly (just slightly – I’m a big NY fan) behind California in movie-land (particularly if it’s made out west I accept the hugs greatly.
Lemme know when you’ve seen it, my friend. Really impacted me.
Also, I never give movie recommendations but from our interactions on here, I believe you would really like the movie just released, Boyhood. Plus it deals with the passage of time (it was filmed over the course of ten years) and this post of yours deals with what time does to memory.
Your thoughts are so inspiring Wendy and how TRUE…and writing I believe is the best way to self discovery…we maynot be perfect but atleast we are ‘ourself’..and that’s important…well written…:)
Thank you for your kind (and also true) comment. Discovery in general and self discovery in particular, is what it’s all about.
Once again, you have expressed what so many others feel. Your posts are always relatable (is that even a word?!), and a breath of fresh air. I applaud your unflinching honesty.
Thank you, Celia for taking the time to comment thoughtfully. Relatable IS a word (as far as I’m concerned). I appreciate your support for a post that was tough for me to write and admit. When someone can relate, it makes it worthwhile.
I understand, because I feel the same way about my photos. When someone “gets” you it’s the ultimate compliment.