formerly Diane's Addled Ramblings... the ramblings are still addled, just like before, and the URL is still the same...
it's just the title at the top of the page that's new

Monday, February 17, 2014

And Still I Rise

I took a little bloggy-break for a few weeks, my friends, as Life felt it necessary to dump a heaping pile of steaming poo upon my head. I was knocked to my knees... buried... overwhelmed... directionless... stuck. It's not the first time, certainly (as you know if you've been coming 'round here for a while)... and I'm sure it won't be the last. But this felt (feels) different than it has in the past. I said a while ago that I've felt a sort of shift in my universe; that it felt (feels) like something big is coming -- but I didn't know what or how or when or from where.

I still don't know.

But I'm slowly getting my footing...

I'm upright. I'm standing.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a tattoo. It's small and simple, on my right wrist. It reads, "... and still I rise."

It's from a Maya Angelou poem -- one of my favorites. I'd been toying with the idea of getting a tattoo for a long while but every time I thought I'd settled on something, I'd change my mind. Until I decided on this one. As soon as I came across the poem, I knew it was right.

... and still I rise.

The simple act of rising can be incredibly difficult. Painful. Scary. If you rise, you are vulnerable to falling again. To being knocked down. To having the rug pulled out from under you. Again.

But rising is also necessary. So very necessary.

... and so I rise. And still I rise. And always I rise.

But it's been made painfully clear to me this go 'round that when I rise, I have to actually move. I have to make a plan. I have to gain some direction along with my footing. I have to figure out where I want to go, how I can get there, and who I want to be in the process.

I have a friend who's also going through a major whole-life upheaval at the moment. He's struggling with a million different things, all at once, he's overwhelmed, and he's having a tough time making decisions about anything. The other night, he said to me, "I just don't know who I am. I don't know how to figure out who I am. But I need to figure it out."

I understand that. Completely. I wonder sometimes if I've ever known who I am. Truly who I am.

Now, I can tell you what I am...

I'm a mom, a friend, a dog-lover, a writer, a story-teller, a reader, a coach, a dreamer...

I can tell you how I am...

I'm funny, lazy, disorganized, confident, insecure, brave and scared shitless alternately, and tired most of the time...

But are any of those things who I am?

I honestly don't know.

There's a person who lives in my head. She is me, only better. She doesn't procrastinate, she goes to the gym every day, she is always kind, she is smarter, thinner, braver, prettier...

She's who I would like to be. Or... she's how I would like to be... she's what I would like to be...

Is who you are the same as how and what you are?

I really and truly don't know.

When my marriage ended, I remember looking in the mirror and thinking I didn't even recognize the face looking back at me. The only thing I knew for sure about myself was that I was a good mother. Everything else about me felt... missing... buried... lost. I was on my knees.

I knew how I was... terrified, angry, sad, exhausted.

But I didn't know who I was. And I had no idea how I was supposed to figure it all out.

I still haven't figured it out.

But I have a better understanding of myself than I did back then. The face in the mirror at least looks familiar. And the person that face is attached to is, at least, standing. She's holding on to the wall and her knees are knocking, but she's up.

... and still I rise.

In the past few weeks, I lost a friend to cancer, I lost my uncle (who had been like a second dad to me), some changes (which rocked me) occurred within a couple of friendships, there were shifts at and realizations about work, which have caused me to re-think (again) how my career might need to change, a person who has become incredibly important to me has decided to move away, and I turned 49.

My world feels turned on its ear. Again. Change is happening. I'm planning. I'm moving forward. Slowly. And I have to hope -- to believe -- that every experience, every knock-down, every act of simply rising will bring me closer to figuring out who I am.

At least I'm standing.

That's something.


... and still I rise.


Anonymous said...

So glad you are back, I have missed you.

hebba said...

It's funny….I just know you through your blog….and I feel like I know EXACTLY who you are.
You are wonderful. You are strong. And you will figure it all out.
I promise.

Diane said...

D, I miss you, too. x

Hebba, thank you. Just thank you. x

dianne said...

You are wonderful dear Diane and I think you are brave and very strong. Try not to 'over-think' everything in your life, sometimes we just have to let things happen.
Love and take care sweet girl.
xoxoxo ♡

Diane said...

Dianne, thank you. And you're right... I over think everything. Working on it :) XO