How in the hell did I ever wind up here. It's not even close to the ideas I cooked up in my head a lifetime ago...nowhere close. My parents were, I guess, what one now calls, from the old school...a daughter got married...that was it...that was the plan, I guess. It was never even discussed...the possibilities for a higher education...no help offered...it all had the feel of being discarded...one less mouth to feed. A magician I was not, and my life in the years that came and went had its share of bad decisions, wrong choices, disappointments, disillusionments, and even though I aligned myself up with what I saw as successful partners, it always ended. I was left to pick up the pieces and struggle on, starting over from the bottom again, and fighting my way back up to the surface where I could breath.
There were times when I thought I was going mad, when I believed everything that was said to me about me, and my self esteem had sunk to the bottom. Thoughts about ending it all, nowhere to turn, somehow I still managed to survive. I realized I couldn't do it all, just did what I could, to hell with the rest. Started telling it like it was, my needs and wants, no matter the consequences. Chose what to change of myself only for myself, and tried to make my life matter. Shifted the pieces of my life around to where they fit together best. I began on the roads most traveled, and switched to the ones less used so late into my life. Did the best I could in the beginning, do the best I can with the consequences, but I'm left wondering if life is just one test, after test, after test, nothing more, nothing less.
I'm reminded I should be more thankful, but the emptiness is still there. I'm really nowhere close to where I had hoped my later years would be. Could there have been more, should there have been more, was there much more I failed to include in my life? Am I successful, somewhat successful, only mediocre, a failure, a small failure, a big failure? How do I gauge the quality of all my years? Were my expectations too high, too low, did I need expectations at all? Did I sink my own ship and spend most of my years paddling that lifeboat in circles? Why am I having such a hard time convincing my brain my life was well spent, or accepting the fear it was all such a waste, or if any of that should even matter at all. Grain of sand, speck of gravel, little stone...I need to know...am I at least a little stone?