Finally, My Public Awaits Me

In all seriousness, the title is a bit of a joke.  Queen of self-deprecation am I.  Some days.  Others I am quite confident that I like me and you will too.

I have a private journal.  I have a public journal.  I last posted to my public journal at the beginning of March.  I'm a bit of a shy girl publicly, but I've decided it's because I don't want you, the reader, to pick on me.  Honest.  It's all about the hate mail.  No, it really isn't.  I have a shy streak and then it's the hate mail.  I don't like confrontation and will avoid it to the best of my ability.

Who am I?  I am fifty-five, young of mind and spirit with a touch of ornery thrown in to temper my good nature.  I am a mother, but I do not define myself by motherhood.  So now a little over a month after this post and I've discovered and realized ... I am definitely defined by motherhood.  Thank you for not pointing that out to me.  I am a wife, but do not define myself by being so.  That's true, but that's because my marriage is, you know, something of a mess and so I can't define myself by being a wife or married.  I'm not sure that I am.

I am honest.  I am far too trusting.  It's a fault I carry about with me, but somehow I couldn't experience worthwhile relationships without trust first, distrust second.  I am sensitive and caring and kind and compassionate.  I find myself crying at the drop of a hat some days and I can't determine if that's a sign of middle-aged woman-ness or depression.  

I posted the song below to my private journal a couple of years ago.  This song represents me very well. 

Unwritten, Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah

I've left a few stanzas out for the sake of not taking up the entire journal with the song and boring you to tears.

After all the years of living and the wisdom gained, I find myself undefined, unwritten and still learning about life, love and myself.

Take life on, enjoy it, cherish it, live it.  Words to live by.  I try.

  Two of the defining moments in my life... proof of ....