Finding your Voice


Over the next few weeks I spent a lot of time lying around, literally. My daughter helped me around the house, the book club girls helped out with all other stuff and my parents and best friends were around for moral support and giggles. I spent a lot of time working, which was good because my job can be done from a laying down position and I don’t even have to spread my legs. I also believe parenting should be able to be done after 6pm from a laying down position. I should be able to yell out orders and dictate things that need to be done and everyone just listens…unfortunately that has never actually been the case. I wonder at times if my children can eve hear me. Sometimes I want to walk up to them and ask if they see me. It’s like being the invisible man, Claude Rains without any benefits of overhearing important information. I can hear me, I can see me, but maybe it’s like in the 6th Sense and they can only see dead people. I spent a lot of time thinking over those few months. Too much thinking for anyone can be a bad thing. You can actually think yourself into issue that were never even there. I tend to do this a lot. I think of all the ways something can go wrong, I think of every escape route, every twist and turn and in the end, sometimes it never comes to for wishing, but sometimes it’s worse than I could have ever imagined. I am very analytical which I’m sure is what makes me very good at my job. I deal in the numbers. Numbers don’t lie, they don’t care if you had a bad night, they don’t care how you feel or what you think, 1+1 will always make 2. That’s why I have always loved them. I tend to apply the same reasoning to my emotional state and my relationships or lack there of. If I love you and you love me that should undoubtedly equal bliss no? Usually it’s not or never that simple. With numbers, unless you are doing a terrifically intricate calculation, there is no way your answer is incorrect, except unless if you are looking at the wrong cell. In life, there are so many variables, that one false step, one look to the left or right could end what you thought may last forever. During those months, I thought about my life, my loves, my kids, my job. How did I get to where I was? How did I end up doing what I did for a living? How did I end up with two divorces? How was I laying on the couch, day after day alone without a significant other? All a sublime plan to get me to where I’m supposed to be? I had no idea, all I knew was that things were not working out as I had planned. Not my plan A, B, C or even D. Maybe I needed a brand spanking new plan. Maybe it was time to shake myself up enough and start over, like for real. Start at the very beginning a very good place to start. I would wipe my slate clean, I would get rid of all the pain and hurt and the mishaps and I would no longer fall down. I would rise, I would stand up. I would begin to build the life I knew I was destined to have. Now all I had to do was figure out what the heck that was. Seems simple enough? What do I want out of this life? What do I want my children to remember about me? What will be my legacy when I leave this world? Big questions yes, but it was time to start to really focus on them. Cause as they say, life is short and you only get one shot at it, so you better make it the best one you have. That is exactly what I planned to do. No more feeling sorry for myself, no more negative thoughts, no more putting myself down in my head. The voice that would tell me I can’t do it was going to be squelched and told to shut the “F up. This would now, finally be my time. My chance. Too bad I forgot to tell the universe my new plan…..

Leave a Reply

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

Gravatar Logo

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

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s