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Paula's Online Journal
20 Sep 1998 - Dear Diary
Initially, I wasn't sure I would share this. I wrote this on the fly, as the words to the feelings struck me. The "Dear Diary" format came to me to be as if I were actually writing/talking to someone about how I was feeling at this moment. I decided to go ahead and publish this entry, not to bum anyone, but to show life for me is not always a happy face. To show the thoughts and feelings I can cycle through, the questions I think about. Also, I guess, I wanted to show that gender really is not the only issue I face, nor will it be the last.
Dear Diary,
It's been a tough week, I have been tired, feeling like I am being pulled in so many directions and way too fast. I keep trying to catch my breath, but as soon as I stop, the pulling begins again. I want this ride to end, to wake up and find that I have been in a deep, long sleep, that it was all a dream. I awake to see that all my friends are here.
I try to think about what is important to me. And at the same time, I struggle to be a loving partner, parent, a hard working, responsible employee. I wonder when my life will begin, when can I stop being so responsible for others, when will they stop asking me to be who they want me to be, when will they see the Real me? I need so much to slow down, stroll, wander this path, stop and take in the slowness of nature. I need to sit, to stare off beyond what is before me, beyond the outer coverings into my spirit, into the energy that connects me with everything else. To see my passion, my person, to re-energize, to love myself as much as I have been loving those around me.
My brain is so tired, it sputters, restarts and sputters again. It takes me so much longer to figure out what I have just read, to think about how to respond - and I am no speed-wiz to start with. Today, I had the opportunity to spend time alone, which I did for a while. I wanted to catch up on some things, but something inside could not get going. Then, I started missing Evan, playing with him, laughing with him. I started feeling sad that I was missing time with him.
Once again, I remember a story I was introduced to in therapy, Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. I do not ask for much, I easily give what I can. Even to those that seem to have so little appreciation for what it is I am truly giving them, I continue to give. I cannot help it much, it is my nature. I remember telling one person about this story and how I am like the giving tree. She sort of seem to just shrug it off in a "Oh, that's nice" sort of way. I wonder if she will even notice when there is nothing left of me but a stump? Would she, too, come to ask for more? Would I, too, still give to her?
What does a happy life look like? I revisit my "safe place." The place I can always go by just closing my eyes, breathing. I am standing there, on the edge of the ridge, high above that thing called life. It continues to rush down the highway, speed across the river, roll along the tracks. In some ways, here I see that whether I am in the flow or not, life goes on, it does not really care, nor does it really matter that I have escaped. Here, I am me. There is no one to please, no schedules to keep, no masks to wear. I look out across the water, the islands, far off to the horizon. I take a deep breath, spread my arms, then bring them back in to embrace myself. Nature embraces me at the same time. I can feel her spirit, her energy.
From this place (it is a real place, by the way) Nature and I have seen a lot of change in each other. She has always changed, balanced, shifted with the seasons and time. She has followed her nature despite the dams, the roads, the slide walls. And where many saw destruction, loss of trail access, I saw beauty, amazement, and wonder. She has seen me change, slowly, gradually, somewhat according to my nature, despite the dams and roads that others have built to control me. I thank her for sharing time with me and I return to "the world."
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