I used to write publicly a lot. About random things. Things I noticed about people. My feelings. Ya'll used to like it. I also write quite a bit in private. Just for me and my future self. I've been keeping a journal since...high school and I can go bakk and read about who I was and still be able to identify with that person now. I'm still me. I was a wonderful teenager. Funny. Smart. Wise beyond my years. And in truth, at least in my personal experience, as we grow older, we simply become more like ourselves. We keep what works and get rid of the rest. Well now, considering where I am in life, having just lost my mother and doing a lot of things on my own for the first time, I feel like I'm at a fork in the road....or some kind of symbolic place that denotes an opportunity to change your course.
Everyone reaches THAT moment at a different time, but for me that moment is now. It's a BIG DEAL. I'm actually documenting it...some publicly, some privately. What's interesting is that I had stopped writing (privately) sometime after mommy began treatment. Maybe a year. In my journal, I slipped mommy's funeral program in right before I started writing again. It's like B.C. and A.D. Things are different now. Mommy didn't crawl out of that hole 3 days later (THANK GOD!)...but just like Jesus, she's still with me. However, there's a change in her being...and I marked it with a program. Of course, that also means I'm changed too. So, all that to say, I'm looking forward to sharing that with ya'll. Because it just may be extraordinary. It feels normal. Regular. But, like a friend of mine told me, it's about perspective. Of course it's normal to me. I'm accustomed to it. I live with my extraordinary on a regular basis. Superman doesn't feel strong. He feels normal. He knows he's not, but he's the way he's always been. It's not special to him.
Of course, like cancer, everyone's process is different. Mine feels special. Maybe because I'm experiencing it differently than most. Maybe they could have experienced it this way, but were too grief strikken to notice. Maybe it just feels different because whoever felt it before me didn't say anything. But it's probably different because it's me. All in all, this affects everything, and that includes my art. So bear with me while I try to make some BIG decisions. All I can promise at this point is to continue to deliver AWESOME...no matter what direction I choose.That's pretty normal for me. I can't help it. I came out the womb like that. :o)