I’m a journaler. I like to write. Obviously, I have a blog. I write prayers. I write how I’m feeling. Generally, I journal more when I’m feeling blasé and/or sad than I do when I’m gleeful.
One night a few weeks ago, when my husband was away, I skimmed through my current journal. The first entry was in May 2010. Approximately 2 years ago. Once I shut the book, I realized I’ve been through a lot in 2 years.
Many of the entries during the summer of 2010 had to do with my then workplace, Heritage of Kentucky, losing a grant. Prayers recorded asking God to keep it operating. It didn’t work out that way. Prayers that I’d get another job, if it didn’t work out. I did get another job, which I currently have.
We’ve moved. Our kids are now high schoolers. My husband has a different job. I stopped eating meat.
Sometimes I tell myself I’m not who and what I should be.
My parents came for a visit recently. They brought along a few items from my childhood to give to me. One was a large, framed photograph of my eighth grade class. I’m considering hanging it over our bed. [not really] The interesting thing about the photo is that my daughter just graduated 8th grade in May, 30 years after I did. So, when I look at the photo, I see me when I was like her now.
And again, I wonder, am I who I should be? I realize we’re more than what we do and we’re more than what others think of us. But isn’t it alright to ask oneself when staring at this type of photo,
“Self, after four years of high school then four years of college, followed by twenty-two years of being a wife and working and parenting and learning, are you who you’re supposed to be?”
Will my daughter, thirty years from now, regret who she’s become? I think that’s my biggest fear for her. If not my biggest, it’s one of the predominants. I want her to be wholly and completely her.
Yet, I tell myself I’m doing alright. Two years and a lot.lot.lot of changes. And more changes on the horizon. I’m hanging in there. But am I living someone else’s dream? Am I helping someone else obtain their goals.hopes.dreams more than I’m helping myself achieve mine or my family’s?
Maybe it’s time to get a new journal….