I was looking for a specific blog entry in my badly neglected Dust Bunny blog when I got caught up in reading some of my past entries. I hardly even recognized myself as the author. The woman-child words and descriptions of daily life filled the web pages with lighthearted humor. It was obvious that she was devoted to her children and even her husband whom she affectionately and sometimes exasperatedly referred to as Dickidoo. She seemed to find humor in almost anything, and when she chose to be serious, it was a deep, emotional side that came through. She was a simple person with a big heart and a bigger laugh.
I miss her.
I've tried to lure her out but she has retreated so far into the shadows of my mind that I fear I have lost touch with her completely. Her spontaneity has been replaced by cold calculation. Her laughter is now bitter and sarcastic. She doesn't sing, not even in the shower. Doodles no longer take over bill statements. She says she loves to cook but if you ask she probably couldn't tell you when she last prepared a nice sit down dinner for the family. She scoffs at the words 'love', 'forever' and 'trust'. She has accepted that she has become an American statistic.
So this is what 'growing up' feels like. Not sure I like the person staring back at me from the mirror in my mind. I'm certainly not liking what I am growing in to but I can't blame the metamorphosis on anyone but myself. I have allowed myself to become this.
Well, if she won't come to me then maybe I'll go back for her. I can never really go back entirely for obvious reasons, but I can certainly go back to being who and what I knew and loved. If you can't love yourself then who can you love? That may sound vain, but really, if you are not happy with yourself, who you are and what you are, then you can never truly be happy in any other aspect of your life. I miss being happy, truly happy.
I miss being me.
So be warned folks, here I come... again!
8 years ago