I have a suspicion that coming out of the COVID “lockdown” (or what passed for that in the U.S.) is scary for me. I feel raw, vulnerable. I do not want to SEE large groups of people let alone navigate large groups socially. I do not want to be running from one place to another. I am now used to having swaths of time to segue from writing to walking the dog, from singing to cooking. I have had a taste of living in a slow, civilized fashion, and I don’t want to give it up.
I do take things too seriously. A few critical comments from either of those people and I’m a ruminating wreck for hours. Even independent of those relationships, though, I often slip into a state where I simply don’t have a grip on who I am, whether I am good or bad, an artist or a hack, a narcissist or an empath. I observe other’s qualities, but I don’t think I judge them the way I judge myself. It’s much easier to imagine that I know who I am if I stay home and don’t have much to do with other people at all. In some cases, it’s also easier if I don’t even communicate with some people even online. I did not used to be this way, really. Maybe I’ve become more blunt, as well as more sensitive, and I’m tired of acting the part of the Nice, Helpful Woman. I can no longer imagine how I did the people-pleasing job I retired from!
Because it was necessary, because I couldn’t escape to a job or myriad activities, I think I became a better companion and a kinder partner for my husband during this time. It just happened, and I hope he agrees that it's true. I don’t think I could have done this with more than one other person, or maybe even any other person but him. This is probably a good thing, and I don’t think I twisted myself in knots to do it.
I like to wait for my dreams to tell me things about myself, but my dreams during the past year or so have not been memorable. Only twice since March 2020 have I awoken in the night to write them down. The second time was just the other night. It was a semi-recurring dream about a person I was involved with when I was in my twenties, ending in a situation in which I was left wondering and confused. The specific dream situations change, but the confusion seems eternal. I really wanted more than that from my unconscious, but it goes its own way.
I’m now embarked on my seventies. Everything after this is 'lagniappe.' I am making use of it; I am writing songs and having them recorded. I have no idea if it’s worth it. The enterprise is unfamiliar because I have rarely done something like this under my own “steam” (as my mother used to call it). I do have one of those difficult people to thank for the initial impetus, but I continue dutifully, almost, pretending that I am someone else, I suppose, someone who has an obligation to herself and holds herself in some esteem. I have not yet become that person, though. And I am not able to think of it as "fun." I need to lighten up.
