Connect

I sit down at the computer and begin to write. Sometimes with little thought to what will flow from my fingertips. Sometimes with an idea. Occasionally with a detailed concept.

I write to clear my head. I write to see if I can make sense of things in my life and in the world. I write because it's proven to provide a safe means of communication with the outside world.

I always assumed writing was about other people, and an author's own vanity. But I've come to realize that writing encompasses a lot of different drives. There is the drive to be heard and understood. There is the drive for commonality. For sure there is an arrogance to writing, more for some than others. 

There are days when I want to write something that will help someone else through difficulty, and there are days when I write solely to ease my own struggles. Those are the days I wonder about motives and feel guilty for sharing. 

Ultimately, I write to connect. I don't know most of the people who read what I write, and very few of my (presumed) regular readers comment. But somehow the process of writing it down and putting it out there helps me feel connected. 

So I sit down at the computer and begin to write.

linking up with Five Minute Friday

Breathing

I am a survivor.

It's taken me a long time to be able to say those words without adding an explanation or proviso. 

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and 2 rapes as an adult.

For years I kept it all buried deep, deep down in box covered in detritus and cobwebs. I never tried to make the box pretty, I just covered it up with everything else I could find to do. Anything to keep that box closed and sealed.

Except there was this one memory that kept leaking out. Every time it oozed out I was horrified by it. I knew it was true. Knew it had happened, but I took it all on myself. Yes it was done to me, but I had participated. Clearly I was at fault. Clearly I couldn't tell anyone because then they would know that my whole life was just an act -- a costume to cover up the horribleness that was me.

The year I was 38 something cracked in the box. The lid just wouldn't stay closed anymore. Other things started oozing out and wrecking havoc in my carefully established veneer of a life. It was a million tiny things pressing on the lid, but eventually the lid blew right off. And I was faced with a lot of stuff I had buried so deeply that it felt like an excavation to uncover reality. 

I've been excavating ever since. It's been hard and painful, and life giving and fulfilling. I've lost some things and people a long the way, and I've recognized that some of those things aren't really lost, because I never had them in the first place. 

I've grieved a distorted childhood and vacuous relationships. I've wished for the opportunity to give my children a better childhood, one that didn't involve a mother coming unglued and piecing herself together again.

At 51 I'm still learning the lesson that life is never perfect. Perfect and happily ever after are storybook notions that we've tried to turn into reality. Most days I take everything a day, an hour, or a minute at a time. I don't plan too far into the future. I don't think it's negativity. I think it's an acceptance of now. That now is all I have, and life changes on a dime.

Would I trade in my history for a different one? Probably not. Am I glad I went through what happened? Definitely not. But the net is this, everything we experience, whether good, bad, or neutral, informs who we are. And how we handle and address joy and adversity teach us about ourselves and the world around us. 

I'm not perfect, but I've learned I wasn't meant to be perfect. So I'm taking perfect off the to-do list, and learning to live with being just me. Flaws and all. It's not always pretty, but I'm breathing easier.

Blessings.

linking up with nesting place

Messy

I'm an introvert, married to an extrovert. Things can get really messy sometimes.

I like quiet. Spending time alone or just with my extrovert.

He likes noise. Spending time with me and lots of other people.

I need peace and distance from the crowd to rejuvenate myself.

He needs people and projects and activities to feel rejuvenated.

See? Messy.

So how do we do it? Sometimes we're are awesome together. Other times not so much. Right now is one of those other times.

Did I mention he's a fixer who just assumes he's right (and he is most of the time)?

Did I mention I'm a pleaser who just assumes I'm probably wrong (and usually I'm not)?

See? More messy.

It's a balancing act. Kind of like those guys who spin plates on the top of poles. And right now we have too many plates in the air, and I need a break, but he wants to grab another plate. 

We're going away for the weekend. This could be good or it could be very messy. 

I'll keep you posted.

linking up with nesting place

31 Days of Writing

Hi, I'm Melanie. I'm a stay at home mom with 2 kids in college. I'm a semi-retired librarian. I've been married for 28 years. I like to cook, crochet, bead, read, and watch movies of all sorts and British television.

That's what I might say if I'd just met you. It's a brief overview so you have some idea of how to talk with me. But there is so much more. That only scratches the surface -- which is okay most of the time, but sometimes I want to go deeper. I want to know and be known on a deeper, richer level.

The nester at nesting place is hosting 31 days in 2013 and I'm going to join in with her. I hope to make it everyday, but only time will tell on that one. If you'd like to jump right in and get to know me better, you can click on "My Story" just under the header. Or you can wait and see it what comes out in this month of writing.

Welcome to my little corner of the blogging universe.

Blessings!

linking up with nesting place