Lingering Along a Broken Path That Leads to a Distorted Past...

I've been reading some of my old blog lately. Call me a glutton for punishment, or perhaps just call me intrigued with the difference between my writing. You could also just call me curious, and desperately seeking inspiration.

I don't really care what you call me.

I had a blog titled Fading Phoenix. I didn't write in it for very long, but some of the entries just kill me to read.

This one specifically:

It is a well expressed belief that we find who we really are in college. Rather it be through classes, activities or the people around us the short period of exploration, and growth develop us into the personalities that will feed into the type of adults we are. It parallels in our friendships, relationships, career paths. It mirrors the type of parents and partners we will be.

Part of me, I'll admit, always believed in this belief.

I longed for college for this reason.

I now sit behind the keyboard and realize that college was not a time of self discovery for me personally, but a time of absence. I went into College knowing exactly who I was, what type of character I held, my morals, my standards, my dreams and passions and talents. By the time I walked across the stage in the Maydell on that May morning almost three years ago I had lost almost every piece of her.

And as I lingered in broken relationships, and career paths that made me want to slit my wrists, who I was became buried deeper within my sub conscious.

It is only now as I sit on the cusp of parenthood that I have been able to examine who I was compared to who I am... and how I've changed. It's difficult not to dwell on such thoughts. How am I suppose to teach my daughter to be proud, be strong and independent, that there is no limit to her abilities when I myself have silenced so much of what makes me me.

I have lost inspiration. I have lost my creativity. These being the very things that gave me reason to breath. Afraid of my confessional nature, I have spent years hiding from my muse. She chases me down dark alleys and side streets, relentless in her pursuit calling after me. I sometime lose her at a red light, but she always seems to catch up to me... to be two steps behind my heels shrieking lyrics and prose through the fog toward me. The desperation in her voice pierces my lungs as they burn for air, but I never stop.

This is me stopping. I'm turning to her, as if she is an old friend and not a menace I have tried to elude for years. I will embrace her, engulf her moth eaten scent and let the tenderness and fear and passion rush over me like a soft Spring Rain.

It is in her embrace where I will cry, soft tears of blue ink. It's too soon to slit my wrists so that the page may feed on my blood like a Vampire.

It is all one step at a time. 


Then of course there was my blog, Sophisticated Chaos. That blog held a lot more pain then I realized, but with small glimmers of hope. I remember writing:

But I don’t know. Maybe none of this matters. Soon Winter is going to turn to Spring with it’s sunny flowers and soft scent of honey. The Winter is always brutal, but it never lasts too long.

Going through this blog was both heart-wrenching, and entertaining. Entries like, A Mothers Legacy or Sophisticated Chaos, haunt me in a way that I can't explain. A Word By Any Other is a blog that is just very true to my normal thought process. And it's nice to be reminded of when Evelyn was younger, like the blog Student of Parenthood. I'm lucky to have all of these memories documented. Or this one, from mother to daughter to daughter, it's a gem I'm glad I haven't lost.

In short, I've been enjoying my emotional, and entertaining trip down memory row. Hope you do too.