Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Seeking a Heroine
I run away from myself at every turn. I write a hard thought and the next thing I know I am making the bed or rinsing the dishes, any flurry of activity will do to avoid the pain that can accompany self discovery. I heard in a book I am listening to that when a woman has a worry she turns to work in order to gain sympathy for herself. But I am alone here in my work, there is no one to impress with my endeavors. It is simply a way to escape from myself, and I am truly tired of running. Like many others, physical work has always been an escape for me, turning to domestic duties to avoid the work of the soul is quite a habit. But in recognizing it I stop and turn from where I am making the bed, and come to sit and write and try to face the thought that first drove me from my desk. I have failed at living up to the self imposed standards of love, honor and trust that I so admired in the books I read as a child. Seeking the strong heroine in the pages I devoured, wanting to associate myself with the qualities they displayed became an obsession as I read my way through Nancy Drew, Anne of Green Gables and Elnora of the Limberlost. I think of myself as a good person and have mostly tried to do the right thing when called upon to choose, yet I have done a few unspeakable things in my life. Learning to forgive myself has been my major battle these past two years, Joey’s death the final spiritual stab at my failings. Why do I linger here fighting internally instead of moving back out into the world and starting my penance? It has been suggested to me that I hold my standards too high, and I think no, my standards are fine, maybe yours are too low. But as usual I digress. The point here is to deal with my self imposed disappointment in what I feel are my failings, and to recognize them for what they are…gone into the vapors of my past and irrelevant to my living in the now. I see that I am afraid to start anything, because that requires me to accept the responsibility of the consequences to my actions. It is much easier to hide away in the comfort of my new puppy than to get dressed and initiate … anything! So truly, has it come to this, that I am just lazy and willing to use any excuse to do … nothing? Some heroine; lets see, what would I do if I were in a book, that might be a good place to start.