Enigma - Who am I?

Remember the Skechers claim when you wear their tone up shoes?  Well, I think I got the dyslexic version of the supposedly slimming sneaker – my backside got bigger and my topside tinier.

My whole life has been that type of a contradiction.  It started with my vacillating vision of what to be when I grew up.  I had it narrowed down between a missionary and a go-go dancer.  Never conventional were my aspirations.

Not quite raised to be a stay-at-home mom, but not enough college to support myself comfortably, I found Mr. Right and marched my way down the aisle to suburban marital bliss.  Don’t misunderstand me.  Life has been good.  I have been happy.  It just left me wondering – what could I have become if I applied myself to something; anything.

There has not been a moment when I have been on my own.  From the safety of my childhood home to college, from college to apartment living with roommates and then into the arms of my husband and our own home, I have never had to worry about a roof over my head.

It’s time for some worry in my life.  Worry molds you, shapes you.   As long as you keep the clay moist, you can reshape the warbles that alter the shape of your choices.  I may have started out a vase and ended up a cup.  But as long as I find my intended purpose, the vessel is irrelevant.

Fifty was a milestone birthday.  I no longer want to be the dutiful daughter or complacent co-worker.  It sounds so wrong, against everything I was raised to believe.  I know I will still be all these things, but I am anxious to finally learn to be me.