Must. Write. Something.

It's been too long. I say that a lot. Too much. Not for your sake, dear reader (really, a single one), but mine. I used to blog daily. And before that I kept a diary for years. YEARS. And now I have no account of my life aside from blips on facebook. Facebook didn't even exist then.
I have to find more that makes me ME. I feel so afloat, so dependent on others to define me. That's wrong. I should be me regardless of others. Right?         Right?!

In some ways I feel I've come back into my own in so many ways but with that also comes some strange heartbreak at the time that's passed. A pain that cuts through my premature wrinkles and wifely- and motherhood. I want to go dancing. I want to feel free. I want to feel like my whole life is ahead of me. But no. I feel like I am just making the best of where I am. Haven't I always been? Is there not more out there?

I should have been writing all along. So much is already gone. I stopped blogging when i lost my dayjob years ago - God - was that 2005? It's 2012. I am old and I hate it. No, that's not true either. I do love my adult life in many ways. I want to use the fact that I don't give as much as a crap about what anyone else thinks to dance however I want to. Ah, crap. I do care. I want to seem cool. I want to feel relevant. And since I can't feel that way in a career - something that affirms me - I want to do it on the dance floor. I want people to stare, but in awe. Amazed by the clearly "too old" lady owning the dance floor with her good/interesting/somewhat off dance "moves."

Is that all? What else do I have left? Yes, I try very hard to be a good mom. I think I can be a good wife. Maybe - just maybe - I am a good Christian. And while I see how those things are what really matter, my ego ultimately overrides all that and screams, "But what about ME???"

So selfish. So centered on self. Sinner. Sinning. Human.

What I actually did today:
Took child to dentist. Worked on church work stuff. Cooked dinner. Preserved meat and vegetables. Emailed with one of my sisters. Painted with child. Fought with husband over stupid crap. Wrote on my long-neglected blog.

I swear it felt like more than that. It probably was. The food preserving takes a long time.

Is this how I feel every day? I don't think so. Often I am so happy with where I am and what I have and what I've accomplished. But not today. I feel that I am doing a really good job of killing time to avoid what I really want.