Earlier today when I set out to write this post; I had many, many thoughts running through my head. I started, edited, deleted and then pushed it aside. I thought I will write one tomorrow….but this need to say something kept poking away at me. I had to figure out what it is this person wants to say and how can she say it…Bear with me as I stumble my way through this…it is upon that path I will find my peace.

Im in a new place in my life. I am standing on the brink of fifty. I do not resemble fifty in my eyes. It is not what I associate fifty with according to what I have viewed in my life. I am ill, but not due to age. I am ill from abuse and trauma. I color my hair in various shades of reds and blondes to fit my mood. I wear jeans that resemble a holey patchwork of colors.  I have tattoos on this older body which speak of what I encompass. I am single and have been so for eleven years. This not what I thought fifty would look like for me. But that conception was formulated through others eyes not mine.

I thought I would be a grandmother by now. Or that was what I should be at this point. But one has to be loved by their children to have that action come about. I thought I should be mourning my empty nest and making myself busy with actions such as golf and various social excercises. Yet I am not in mourning about the empty nest or living alone. I enjoy the silence in my home. I hear and see things I never knew where there. It has allowed exploration into areas I have long kept under lock and key. I thought I would be about ten years from retirement. Yet I find myself just beginning my career. I thought many things. Yet none of them have come to fruition.

I have worked and worked for years. Just keeping myself and my sons heads above water. And hating every moment of it. And after my divorce I worked even harder. I pushed back the thoughts in my head and the signs this body was giving me that I was quite ill. I realized I had done nothing to bring this illness to my body. Yet it was mine now to deal with. So I have worked until recently when this body, beaten, weary and bruised said no more. It told me that another step in that direction would cause me a full shutdown. A collapse and this was not the cross I was going to bear. I have barely stepped into my life. I have barely ventured forth into the places I have wanted to go. I have just begun.

So with shaking knees and having no clue what was around the corner..I left. I left a position which paid my bills, bought my groceries and let me believe I was doing the right thing. Yet everyday my head dropped more and I could no longer push into the background the crushing pain anchored upon this body. I could not deny that it hurts to breath some days. And that I would pay anyone to rip my spine out. So that for one second, one small second I would not feel the electric shocks coursing through me. That the tremors would stop if I held my hands together and perhaps no one would notice. I thought if I just kept on the trajectory I was told I was to be on, life would be good. yet that failed me.

It has been a rough month of adjustment. It has been rough coming to terms with my anger of being sick . I have spent time in conversations with God about the injustice of it all. And I have spent too much time in the belief that work was the cause of all the malfunctionings in my body and the pain. Yet I have sat on my couch and wept for days and have not lifted a finger in work; and realized I am ill and it is serious.

I have written in my book and not separated myself from the events. I have let myself feel each and every moment. I have stood and looked at the little girl beaten and bruised and held her tight. I have looked at the young lady, a child herself having babies and wondering how did I ever know what to do? I look at the woman in her mid life and have no regrets because I have remained; despite all the events which have happened.  I have loved with fierceness and hated with equal passion. I have sought answers to questions and have asked others the questions. I have sought love and found it. I have found my path and I move along it in my pace. I deal with my insecurities and face the reflection I see in the mirror. I no longer see lines and age spots…or my percieved imperfections.  I see someone I have not seen in awhile…Mandy.

I am exploring my talents and seeing my hands move across a canvas whether to paint, sketch or sew. I have read my words and know that I encourage. And that every word written breaks the silence and changes things in huge ways. I look about me and ignore nothing.

I have chosen connection. Connection with a world that has told me I do not belong. Connection with my sons through their hearts. Because I live in them in so many ways. Connection with being loved and being told there are lovely things about me. Connection with my history and knowing they are events which affected me yet do not define me. Connection through each and every moment of this pain and what it is doing to me..this disease. Connection with my insecurities, imperfections, wishes and hopes. This connection I hope carries on long after I am gone. It is not me I hope to be remembered. It is my choice to reconnect  despite knowing what it would bring about and the many monsters I would have to battle. My choice to connect and engage and believe the immensity of my value upon this place. As I hope I can aid you in discovering your value and the beauty of humanity.


~ by HopeGlenn on January 28, 2012.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: