Tuesday, February 20, 2007
This is a piggy back post from my Sunday scribbling and yesterdays writings.
Seems as though many women look to find their true essence during menopause! Lost is the part of us caught up, being a wife, striving to sustain a career and raise children. Once put to the side, the spirit of who we are won’t be ignored.
Although with age comes foresight and wisdom, there's often huge chunks of void. Or maybe just areas unexplored. For years my mom complained about being a golf widow. Once I was long gone, my brother in his teens, mom felt free to try golfing. Her passion quickly ignited. She dragged dad around the course a few times a week. It was a new start for them as a couple. Mom questioned why it took so long for her to discover this sport she now hankered for. As a woman of substance with many hobbies it was difficult to enjoy all lifes offerings. Sewing, dabbling in the stock market, crocheting, cooking, gardening, reading, games, bridge, you name it, her interests superseded her time!
Logistics of raising kids, working full time, keeping up with housework and a budget, made time for golf unfeasible in her mid years. Mom always had big plans for retirement, but her demise stole the dreams.
At eight, I initiated attending church alone. Routinely getting myself up, then walking down the block to the local evangelical church. Thinking back, it was odd thing to do at that age. Yet I continued to go weekly without encouragement. What possessed me to yearn for that atmosphere when I had the challenge of an agnostic dad, and a semi spiritual mom?
Invoked thoughts from Sunday Scribbling
As I wrote my Sunday scribbling, I wondered how I manifested having a mormon boy wait for me in the middle of the night so I could sneak out with him. How did that transpire, what words did I use to entice him? How old was I really, in that thirteen year old fully developed body? All questions that are baffling me.
Finding my true self is a journey back to the past, looking for clues, things I adored in childhood, my independent nature, and opinionated character, that often turned adults off! Looking at the little Sherrie, I think I may have been wiser than some gave me credit for. I always looked at both sidesof the equation, I still do.
Love of Color
I can’t remember a time where I didn’t love coloring, whether it be books, or walls, or cakes. I was always under the impression that to do art you must draw perfect pictures. It never occurred to me that decorating in bold colors during the seventies, dressing with flare, inventing new ways to carve a pumpkin or ice a cake were all expressions of a repressed artist’s soul. Squashed was a childhood aspiration, because I was unable to draw with perfect precision.
In my mid forties on root to self discovery, with the encouragement of Violette, who seemed wooed by my purple home decor, I put colored sharpie to paper attempting journal pages. It opened a new world for me, and ever since I have enjoyed trying new things for my own creative pleasure.