Heels to the Wind

The "heels to the wind" approach is akin to digging your heels into the dirt and refusing to budge. It is what happens to people who get dragged into doing things that they really don't want to do, but they do it anyway. This is me, lately. I understand the concept of saying no to people, I do. However, I also don't wish to be a selfish "Me Me Me " type, who says no when the plan goes against what I want.

The scenario, I often get roped into get togethers, playing chauffer, cleaning lady, and grocery lady, all along with working anywhere from 10 to 12 hours per day at my job. All of this with little or no help from my more than capable family. I don't always speak out until I finally realize that I'm not Superwoman after all. By then, I'm foaming at the mouth, my eyes are ringed with derision and I'm pulling bald spots not only from my hair, but from everyone else's as well. I basically try to shoulder the load way to much, because, let's face it, normally I can handle it all. It is actually fairly easy to deceive myself into believing that I'm the only one who can get things done in my house. This is really a delusional characteristic of the epitome of the overworked, under appreciated, modern day woman.

Just because we handle everything most of the time, doesn't mean that we can handle everything all the time. I finally had to hang up my cape, put the vacuum cleaner in someone else's hands and scream until I was able to find my own inner -- well -- me. I had to come to terms with what I was allowing to happen to me, draw the uncrossable line, and accept my own humanity. I had to not only demand help, I also had to allow it to happen.

I'll wear the cape another day; for now, I'm glad I'm not Superwoman after all.

Meaning?

So many times people say things like, "You look way younger than that," or "You have such beautiful hair; is that a perm growing out, or is it natural curl?" Or they have even asked me, "Do you shave your eyebrows and pencil them in?" And the one that really gets me, "You are not fat, you just need to loose a little weight and then you will look just fine..."

I never really know what to believe, because we humans are very guilty of padding the truth with little white lies so we don't hurt one another's feelings. With the exception of those who really don't care about what others feel, and bluntly say whatever is on his or her mind. (Like the 'Do you shave your eyebrows?' person)

In answer to the above questions or comments, I am not as young, nor as old as I look. I am any age at any given time, that I wish to be within my own heart. Sometimes I'm a 12 year old kid, crashing her mountain bike into a tree and totalling it, other times I'm a battle scarred, old woman, who just lost a close friend to the frenzy of life's darkest hours. We do have hereditary young skin in my family though, so I probably do look physically young for my age.

My hair is a cross between Peter Frampton's look in the seventies, (with a more modern twist,sort of,) and a lion's mane. It is unruly, wavy and incorrigible. Really hopeless -- and I'm incompetent when it comes to trendy up dos.

I DO NOT SHAVE MY BROWS AND PENCIL THEM BACK IN!!! I was five years old before I even realized I had eyebrows like everyone else did, because they were such a light color and so thin. As I'm growing older, they are once again thinning and growing lighter. Now I was a very sharp minded child, always inquisitive, so if who we were as children has any bearing on who we are to be when we are old, I should be a sharp minded, inquisitive old lady with no eyebrows! (Someday, if I live that long...)

I really am not fat, that part is true, but I used to be a size three and a size five, then a seven for most of my adult years. So I consider ANY double digit sizes large on my body. I am a size 8 now, and planning on going one more size down -- just because I can.

My point is, with all of this interminable rambling, that it really doesn't matter what people think of me, or how I truly look. My body's appearance is irrelevant. I am who I am from within the depths of my mind, heart and soul. My life experiences have made me who I am today, not my body. My life experiences will continuously change me and recreate me, and I, for one, am grateful for the meaning those experiences add to my existence. I always look for meaning, for reasons, sometimes too much, I admit, but usually the pursuit of truth and the realization of it, makes it all worthwhile for me in the end...

Beginnings...

I write, all the time, in my journal, but I guess a "blog" is more interactive. I do like the idea that I can view how many people actually visit my site, which I can not do with my journal. I always wonder, like the character in Pink Floyd's, "The Wall", if there is Anybody out there. Does anyone ever read what I have to say. (They do with my journal, because I get comments from time to time.) At least with a blog, I can count the amount of people who actually read what I have to say, but have no comment to make.

Beginnings -- cliche name for a first blog entry, but fitting.

My son is beginning his adult life today, turning 21. He is also in his first few months of active duty with the Air Force, currently enrolled in his tech school, and I'm very proud of him.

I am beginning to realize my own mortality, questioning what lies beyond my kids growing up. I don't feel much older than 21 myself most days, and feel at least 80 on other days. My mindset won't allow me to grow old, though, because I don't have time for it. There is too much life left to live yet, and not enough time to live it. Sometimes time is all we have, yet there never seems to be enough of it. What a paradox!