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About this Entry Posted by: karos 
Original: 5/11/2009 11:18 AM
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Deep breath
Well. The world just keeps on spinning, doesn't it?
So much is going on, but I have a definite disconnect between my mind and my fingers and the wanting to tell of it, to you, the demi-anonymous readership. Obviously the love affair between me and blogging done be kaputski. Though I do still enjoy my voyeuristic peeks into your own worlds.
And what is up with me? Well, bootcamp has been taking up a few of my evenings and I am masochistically loving the grueling workouts outdoors. For somebody that sits working in front of a computer most of the day, sweating it out amidst the unfurling spring leaves and soaring peregrine falcons has a certain dichotomous appeal. Or am I full of shit? No, I think not. I love the brutal exertion my body is able to take and the days of leftover soreness from the effort. I love doing more than I thought I could, right beside people going through the same motions. And I love doing it, snow, sun, rain, wind — outside where the air sharpens my mind and the sound of the natural world feeds the soul of a desker whose days are so much filled with the clacking of her own keyboard and the hum of the refrigerator in the room beside her office.
So this has been good, and I am thinking of other things I want to do. Take stained glass class. Enrol in a silkscreening course at the local art college. Write an article for Psychology Today. Finish the 3/4 completed novel languishing in the word file in the folder called Creative Writing.
The past few months have seen a definite shift for me, if only by little degrees. I took up skiing again and relished the thrill of flying recklessly — OK, I'm a bit more cautious now — down the slopes of the Rockies. Finding the almost deafeningly quiet spots at ridiculous elevation, white before you, blue above you, only the sounds of your breath and your skis, and I actually started singing out loud as I shusshed on down. Nobody was very close, and the sound was so damped up there, who'd hear?
Of late, I finally see myself as truly having a bit of an athletic heart. It's under here someplace, which surprises and delights me. But when I think on it - maybe it shouldn 't. I have always encouraged my children in athletic pursuits — equestrian, soccer, biking, hiking, swimming, skiing. And much of the time I have participated in some way. Why didn't I see these qualities in myself? Weird.
But then again what is weird is that my self-analysis these days is getting to the core of what's what, and why. Maybe it's midlife crisis but I'm seeing myself through an interesting new lens. And it's not exactly easy, but it sure is interesting. At least to me.
For one thing, I have come to the conclusion that I have an enormous amount of difficulty receiving love. This was a strange epiphany for me, because I always saw myself as such a loving person, but it makes total sense.
When I was 11, my parents split, nobody asked who we wanted to live with, my dad played mind games with my mom — who has not got the strongest constitution — my dad got custody of us, my mom's boyfriend later messed with me, for a couple of years, and both of my parents more or less proceeded to ignore us for at extended period of time, with sporadic attempts at assuaging their own guilty consciences by showing us affection through things like trips, talks, and gifts. Basically they were emotionally absent, each grappling with their own internal issues and external lives, and having the damnedest time figuring out where to fit the kids, or to even imagine what we were experiencing. Self-centered. It was the late '70s, so what else?
For a child who felt so loved, especially by her mother, up till then anyway, I think maybe the shock of it all created a hastily-built but incredibly sturdy wall. Till then, I was a girl whose mother lovingly fussed over crocheting another couple of rows on her pink-and-white party dress because she'd grown a few inches since she last wore it. Who made a tugboat cake with white and blue frosting and peppermint-lifesaver rescue flotations for her brother. That tended the vegetables and flowers in the gardens and went to quilting bees at the local church where she made a Holly Hobbie quilt for me. Who knew (and was loved by) many of the neighbours on the block, from ancient Mrs. Mah to the pothead hippie photographer and his wife, who let their kids run around naked. Who was in art college and painted in her upstairs studio and administered Dettol and bandaids when required, and pushed back your sweat-slicked hair when you were sick.
Moved out.
And then the house seemed entirely empty. And in my own mind, I became entirely unlovable.
Later on, boy but could I love. Men. I could give love. I just couldn't receive it. I loved — and loved hard. A lot.
But I think I still have a hard time with it. I love immensely. I love intensely. But won't let it flow the other way. Toward me. Into me.
Yep. Lots of thinking going on.
Lots of hoping to un-tilt the world that got so skewed.
Midlife. Ain't it grand? Posted 5/11/2009 11:18 AM - 60 Views - 24 eProps - 13 comments
13 Comments 
Glad you are enjoying bootcamp. It's been a great experience for this desk-dweller, too.
Would you settle for Uncskainch's cherry tomatoes and a heap of dark chocolate? I'm in......(-:
Marriage is love.
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