I'm feeling restless. I can't pinpoint why in my head. I'm hoping that writing it out might help me feel more 'together' or 'gathered.'
|I cleaned out a storage room in the|
Hoping cleaning up spaces
will help me gradually
feel more ordered.
This artwork is by Curly.
It's an Irish dancer,
who apparently has no
bones in her legs.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not invincible, but I'm feeling more 'aware' of the circle of life lately. Add to that my trip to the ER a few weeks ago and my ongoing fear that the docs are missing something.
Exhibit A: In November 2019, Mini and I attended a literary event at my college. I bumped into my former English professor. I wasn't an English major, but I took a required English class.
I was a business major, which is silly because I have no interest in anything pertaining to business unless you count Superbowl commercials.
I was impressionable when I chose my major. I wanted to be a teacher, but a mom I babysat for, who had a big influence on me, advised me against that. She said I'd never meet a husband. My father told me I could sell ice to Eskimos. He thought I should go into business, but he really wanted me to be a nurse. Does it sound like I was raised in the 50s here? What on earth?
* Let's all imagine me instructing patients on how to start their own IV while I look away. Business major it was.
Do you ever stop and think about the people or moments that have influenced you one way or another, and how things could've turned out differently? I mean, I do enjoy my job at times, and I'm thrilled that I stayed home with my kids, but I babysit. I'm a babysitter. (When I wanna be fancy, I say that I'm a small business owner, because I do all the communication with clients, book keeping, and marketing). Don't get me wrong, I'm good at babysitting. Do what you know, and all the rest, but when people say it doesn't really matter what you major in, well - I sort of cringe.
In addition to choosing the wrong maor, I wasn't the most motivated and my parents weren't all that great at steering me or championing my talents, beyond the eskimo remark. They were of the mindset that I'd get married and have a family. See, 1950s. I was very happy to get married and have a family, but I do wish I'd chosen to study something that could've lead to more of a career.
When my kids have friends over while I'm babysitting, I say: HEY, STAY IN SCHOOL. Translation: figure out what you want to do WHILE in school. I think nowadays with online classes, it might be easier to switch gears after graduation. Every once in a while I consider going back to get my MFA (masters in fine arts) to teach writing at a community college. Not sure if that makes any sense at this stage of the game. Would I retire a few years after I started?
Anyway, when I ran into my old prof, I forgot that I had a nametag on. As I introduced myself to him, he sort of waved away my 'remember me' thing.
Prof: I know who you are. I remember you.
Me: Oh, you do?
Prof: Yes, you were a good writer.
Well, you could've blown me over. Such a compliment all these years later. Maybe he says that to all his former students, but since this is my blog and I'm trying to feel less 'lost' we'll pretend that he DID remember me and that he DID like my writing.
With Mini at Notre Dame, I decided to reach out to Prof in hopes that he might want to meet for coffee when I was in town to tailgate, etc. I wanted to share my writing goals with him and a link to my published story from earlier this year, and ask if he had any suggestions or guidance for me.
I emailed him before we tailgated at ND, but never heard back. Finally last week, I called the college and they put me through to the alumnae office.
Me: Hi. I'm trying to get in touch with Prof. I emailed him a few weeks ago, but I haven't heard back. I wonder if I have an old email or if he's retired or something. Do you have another way for me to get in touch with him?Woman: Oh, I'm so sorry. Prof died suddenly in July or August.
I was stunned. Saddened. I wished I'd reached out sooner. I was hoping for guidance from him, but I also know that he was a good guy and I feel like I missed getting to know him better. Besides the fact that it sounds fun and grown up to get in touch with a former professor and reconnect, I'm sad that he's gone. I don't know how old he was, but he was not elderly by any stretch.
Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer. It's not my normal mode, but sheesh. Additionally a man in our neighborhood passed away last week. He was 66 and apparently had a short battle with cancer. Ed played basketball with his son in high school. Coach and I used to sit and chat with he and his wife during games.
Aging parents: This might be the last few years that my folks will be with us to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas. Look at that, the holidays are making me feel heavy and I haven't even eaten a big meal yet. I've been blessed to have my parents for as long as I have and while my family dynamics make me nutty, it's hard to imagine life without them.
Unwittingly enabling: Coach and I need to address the Lad situation. He's doing fine, so much better than 2020. At the same time, he needs that push to get help. He's working, functioning to a degree, but he's crippled by the things he refuses to address. I feel like we are unwittingly enabling him. He's sort of stuck and I hate to see him miss out on all of the fun and adventures available to young 20-somethings.
|Unrelated, but more fun than a photo |
of me feeling down in the dumps . . .
I found this in an old notebook.
Check out the note at the bottom.
Guessing this was Ed, but not sure.
Ed has urged Lad to get help after Lad revealed to him how he's been feeling, but Ed's a senior in college and it feels like a lot to burden him with. So, we push onward. Hoping to find a way, and hoping that that way doesn't backfire.
More soon on my other theory as to why I might be a little unsettled at the moment. It rhymes with pailgate mythdrawl, which translates into a-not-quite-empty-nest issue.