I wasn’t so much hoping for a change with the blog as I was hoping for a clarification. All my life I’ve been convinced that I had at least one novel in me. I was hoping these little writings would bring the pieces of a novel into focus, and bring my life into focus with it. I had a pretty tumultuous adolescence, and a fair amount of upheaval in my young adult life. I was troubled, and rebellious, which sprung from my mundane childhood as a young prodigy and the belief that there had to be something out there that was wicked and more interesting. I longed for excitement. My parents were as safe and as bland as the Cleavers and I couldn’t believe anything they told me about bad things out in the world as they had obviously never experienced any of them. My mother was homecoming queen at her large state university, and my father was in law school. They met shortly after this and my mom married him not long out of college after teaching French and Spanish in a prestigious Colorado neighborhood. I was born when Mom was 23 and my dad was 32. From then on, my mom did her utmost to see that my performance in all areas of life was superlative. She taught me words with blocks before I was walking. I did multipiece jigsaws about the time I started to walk. I was her certified One Trick Pony all through my childhood, and I obediently leeped through my hoops and trotted and cantered in time to her light whip and hackneyed circus music.
When I hit adolescence, I began to question everything, including the need to bring home straight A’s. I felt that my grades singled me out for negative attention from my fellow students, and I began deliberately letting my grades slide to ward off their unwanted criticism. I got involved with a number of negative, destructive things which unfortunately persisted into young adulthood. When I finally got through all that, I was left with an “is that all there is?” feeling that haunted me through later years. A husband and child failed to fill the void and I have been stumbling through my life since then, going through the motions, waiting for something to happen that never comes.
I think I’m hoping that this blog will be a form of therapy. Although I’m afraid to put some of the truths of my life “out there” on the internet, I can feel my resistance breaking down as I read some of the things that have been shared by the community here. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to share too much, as I am a physician in a small town and some things I write may be held against me. I have made sure that no one in town (except my husband) is aware that I even have a blog. There are just some things that I don’t want to share with friends and acquaintances that I can share with absolute strangers. Paradoxically true. Even my husband being aware of the blog has had some repercussions – he has found some of the things I’ve shared to be things that I should have instead shared with him. Again, sometimes it’s easier to communicate with relative strangers.
I am digging into my past now to try to find some nuggets with humor or at least truth that I can share in this blog. And if I can make sense of where I’ve been, maybe I can figure out where I’m going.