I’ve put the manuscript out there. Two of my readers have come back to me. I’m grateful for their honesty and time commitment. I asked for feedback and I got it. It got to me, too! I have changes to make, quite a few.
Honing a manuscript takes time.
Last Monday came and with it an irresistible urge to complete this manuscript.
But fear is near
Emptiness shadows joy
What do the words, ‘good girl,’ unleash in you?
I’ve been a good girl for most of my life. Has it made me happy? Sometimes. Like most self discovery; it’s a mire in there. ‘Good girl,’ is in the hard basket with other taboos: periods, mothers who drink or do drugs, women who choose not to have kids…
The manuscript is progressing and I’m in the middle of year eleven. It’s a whirlwind time with senior school responsibilities and study and boys … At 59, I’m recalling what it was like to be fifteen, anorexic and naive. I’m looking at my two-dimensional view of the world and that of my greatest influencers, my father.
After my fifteenth birthday, our relationship changed and he distanced himself from me. Loving me became Mama’s job. But dad’s views underpinned our lives, both hers and mine.
Conflict? Is it beneficial? Soul-destroying? Or an opportunity to learn? Can we become addicted to conflict? Writing my story, I’m in year eleven of my high school experience battling anorexia and I’m forced to address conflict. I was at breaking point. Something had to give and it couldn’t be me, good girls don’t make waves.
I’d made a huge discovery, I didn’t like the life I was living anymore. I’d had enough. Would this ensure recovery? Would it be enough?
Everyday I discover something new. That’s how I choose to live my life. Tackling my struggle to stay on top of the inner critic, I’ve had to embrace honesty and self-awareness. My body talks to me. Yours does too.
But do you hear it?
Have you ever felt your back up against the wall, repetitive and intolerable situations pressing you tighter into the corner? My life has been a series of micro-deaths, traditions, observances and people. But I keep trying to fix whatever is broken. I’m looking at the finger not what it’s pointing at.
I’m 58 and I’ve spent my life questioning. Lately, I’ve discovered that I’m still wondering how to embrace womanhood, feeling totally comfortable in my own skin. And I’m not alone. This post is a series of questions. It’s about my ongoing journey of me making peace with me. It’s asking why we continually want to change ourselves.
Retiring is like dying. If you are very lucky, you have a few practice runs before you go. I’m transitioning out of my professional life. With every, good-bye, I reflect on what have I have learned.
I’m a seeker, a would-be philosopher. It’s a vagabond’s life, the gypsy of the soul seeking meaning. But there are always stand-out moments, a person, a situation, a life. Most importantly there is a lesson.