Today someone asked me, "are you a writer?" Well, I thought- I write, but I also swim- does that make me a "swimmer"? I cook, does that make a "cook"? By professional standards, no- not at all. I mentioned this blog and then had to roll my eyes since I have really been neglecting it this summer. I was aiming to write here every Thursday- then I thought maybe every other Thursday would be better and nope, I haven't even done that as of late. I also said that at the moment, I do not write for anyone or anything... I don't even write for myself as it were... well... except for now. Now I'm writing. But am I a writer? Ehhhh... I feel like I should use that term loosely, or with caution... grains of salt come-a pourin'. I usually describe it in that way I did a few lines back- "I write". That offers more of a range somehow. It's the truth without assuming a professional title that I really do not have. But it doesn't belittle what I do either- I write, that's what I do. that's what I'm prone to do- often. Ever since I was 12 and used my first diary I received as a gift.
I have a lot of my old diaries around. I've moved a few times over the years and still the old journals travel with me. My latest move has me right back in the neighborhood where I grew up- I am now living in the house I used to go to after school while my mom was still at work. The friend I bravely made in kindergarten one day prompted our mothers to meet and become friends as well. I had 'scored' myself a babysitter unknowingly. I would wait for my mother to come back from work on the staircase, the very same staircase I now go up and down every day to go to work, the store, to throw out the garbage or to let company in. Anxiety and what therapists refer to as, "abandonment issues" would wash over me as I waited for her- this would happen so frequently that those feelings, or those sensations within my belly became the norm. Nowadays I challenge myself to think, "oh wait, I don't have to feel this anxious! This isn't necessarily the norm!" And from there I can track my feelings better, the root of whatever problem is at hand and strive for a more calm, peaceful me. Being able to do that feels very liberating to say the least.
In this blog I've written about the dangers of falling into saudade, of getting too caught up in the past. Well, this summer has thrown nothing but saudade curve balls my way and what can I do- I enjoy the nostalgia, and it can amuse me, but I'm also pained by it. What I do is see it as a challenge. All my talk of not drowning in saudade has brought me to this old neighborhood of mine- with some of the old landmarks still in tact, and some torn down and replaced. The old park I used to go to, it was renovated in the 90's when my sister was growing up and it looked so new and bright. So 90's- when playgrounds here started to have more safety features and have friendlier, vibrant, "children" colors installed. Today, all its colors of that park have worn out terribly- the greens, yellows and reds- faded. I could pull out more examples but right now, I really need to try and sleep. I just wanted to put something out there tonight, to get back into the swing of writing on my blog regularly, to be able to say and mean, "I write".
I have a lot of my old diaries around. I've moved a few times over the years and still the old journals travel with me. My latest move has me right back in the neighborhood where I grew up- I am now living in the house I used to go to after school while my mom was still at work. The friend I bravely made in kindergarten one day prompted our mothers to meet and become friends as well. I had 'scored' myself a babysitter unknowingly. I would wait for my mother to come back from work on the staircase, the very same staircase I now go up and down every day to go to work, the store, to throw out the garbage or to let company in. Anxiety and what therapists refer to as, "abandonment issues" would wash over me as I waited for her- this would happen so frequently that those feelings, or those sensations within my belly became the norm. Nowadays I challenge myself to think, "oh wait, I don't have to feel this anxious! This isn't necessarily the norm!" And from there I can track my feelings better, the root of whatever problem is at hand and strive for a more calm, peaceful me. Being able to do that feels very liberating to say the least.
In this blog I've written about the dangers of falling into saudade, of getting too caught up in the past. Well, this summer has thrown nothing but saudade curve balls my way and what can I do- I enjoy the nostalgia, and it can amuse me, but I'm also pained by it. What I do is see it as a challenge. All my talk of not drowning in saudade has brought me to this old neighborhood of mine- with some of the old landmarks still in tact, and some torn down and replaced. The old park I used to go to, it was renovated in the 90's when my sister was growing up and it looked so new and bright. So 90's- when playgrounds here started to have more safety features and have friendlier, vibrant, "children" colors installed. Today, all its colors of that park have worn out terribly- the greens, yellows and reds- faded. I could pull out more examples but right now, I really need to try and sleep. I just wanted to put something out there tonight, to get back into the swing of writing on my blog regularly, to be able to say and mean, "I write".
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