Just Wondering (... or maybe wandering?)

Last night Em and I went to a fund raising dinner at the Presbyterian Church. As fund raisers go, it must have been wildly successful!! Hundreds of people (literally) filled the social hall, during the hour we were there, and they continued to serve for a total of four hours. The tally of meals served was figured out, in part, by the number of Styrofoam "to go" boxes that were used to dish up the meals. At the last count, I heard, over a thousand meals had been served! I certainly admire the enthusiasm, planning and promotional abilities of the fund raising committee!

For me personally the evening was so hard. Em's been volunteering at the church for a couple of months now and has learned the names and faces of many of the members. I attend worship services there sporadically, and have gained only a very limited knowledge of names and faces of anyone. Sitting in that packed hall, even with Em at my side, I felt very alone. I ate my barely warm spaghetti dinner, with it's wilted salad and stale cookie dessert, and just felt exceedingly sorry for myself.

It's hard for me to write that truth. "Feeling Sorry" for oneself was not an acceptable state of behavior at any time during my childhood years. First, it was unlikely to draw even the slightest sympathy or attention, so it was a complete exercise in futility. Moreover, if someone actually did take notice, the attention my "pity party" might bring down on me would be the most unwelcome kind. Teasing and disdain were the only predictable outcomes of that particular self indulgence, I can remember.

The crazy thing is; it's not as if I don't know the remedy for my own malaise. I do! It's as simple as following Emmy's wonderful example and jumping into the mix of people and life and energy swirling around Lakeview Presbyterian Church. I could join clubs and go to meetings, show up for book studies and work parties and soon I'd be in the thick of things and all my troubles would fade away! Right? Mostly right?? a little right??? almost right.... ?..

What's stopping me? Of course I know it's me, I'm stopping me, but why? The folks I've met are friendly, the friends I've made are loving and supportive. Is it too much work? Am I afraid (remember recess in the second grade?) no one will "pick me"? Is this reluctance a symptom of burnout from being so hyper involved at home? "All of the above? -- None of the above?" It's like I'm holding back, waiting for something outside myself to propel me forward. After all the work I've done over the last couple of decades, facing and properly containing the trauma and demons who would haunt me, learning to take personal responsibility for my life and times, recognizing no one is a victim (for long) who doesn't chose to remain a victim, why can't I stir my limbs and heart and get moving into this community (or another!)? Why do I feel such helplessness at this particular juncture of my life?

You, my dear anonymous reader, may have noticed some distinct mood changes woven through my writing. I see it too. I live inside this swirling mass of confusion, insecurity and hope, and it's as confusing to me as it may be to you! I seem to have a real "Love - Hate" relationship going on with my own life! Is that even normal? What will I be when I grow up? Will I grow up?

Writing here helps. I not sure why, but it helps. There's a particularly annoying voice, coming from some deep, dark crevice of my mind, which keeps offering (rather cynically, I might point out) "you are definitely a woman with too much time on your hands!" I don't agree. I'm a woman with just the right amount of time on my hands! Time, sweet time.... all things in good time.

thanks for listening,
my