There is something about coming home that unleashes the nostalgic feelings inside. I am having an endless amount of "remember when" moments. I am recalling who I was at fourteen, sixteen, eighteen...remembering pieces of me I had forgotten, pieces that have gotten lost over the years. Buried in marriage and motherhood. Remembering that I didn't really know who I was at that age...I was defined by my peers. Realizing that I still don't know who I am. Now I am defining myself as a wife and mother.
I never took the time to find myself, to know who I was. It sounds cliche to say that, but as I wrestle with decisions that seem easier left unmade I have to face that fact. As I sit and stare at the void in myself that was pushed aside in order to keep up with my expectations I realize that there is nowhere left to go but inside.
I have the music on right now as I type this. Adding to the drama of introspection and taking me further back into my nostalgia...remembering how as a teen I penned endlessly of unrequited love and rotten parents all the while listening to music that fit the mood. Full circle?
The difference now is that I am not a single person who only impacts herself with her decisions. I am a mother and have the lives of real people to consider as well. Don't think that the irony of this post being only one away from my lamentations on the decline of families because of divorce has escaped me. I am not ready to call myself a hypocrite yet...
The ultimate question though is: Why am I unhappy? What can I change to make me happy? Assuming of course that I will know happy when I find it...
to be continued...
