for now
I love the discussions on this blog -- the endless theorizing is entertaining, and I enjoy most of the varying perspectives we see here.
Lately it's just theorizing -- I'm still single, I still want to be married, I still want a family, and that still looks to be a long way off, given the givens -- but I don't mind it as much. I'm finding a church home for the first time in seven years, I'm finding ways to be involved, I'm making a new friend or two in the process, and I'm seeing places where I can be of some use to people around me. It's not going to replace the goal of marriage, certainly, but the grief and the ache of being single have eased these last few months. I'm grateful for the respite, for as long as it lasts.
Things are never perfect, but my dad used to tell me to look at the overall progress -- to view my life like a line graph. As long as the line is going up, he's say, you're making progress. And that's good.
Some of the biggest challenges I have faced over the past four years have related primarily to budgeting and money management, and to coming to a healthy balance in my social life. I'm happy with where I've come in the last year in particular -- I see significant progress in financial responsibility (I'm a spendthrift at heart -- I buy lots of cheap things rather than a few expensive things -- I have that much Scots in me), and tendrils of growth in the making of more friends (which is something of a challenge in my small town where I'm one of the only young people I know).
This year I'd like to waste less time watching movies and TV on DVD -- an exceptionally easy thing to do when I come home from work drained and exhausted and I just want some brain candy -- and focus more on my writing and my reading. I've built quite a collection of books since I was a little kid, and I still haven't read about half of them.
Moving to Michigan has been a jarring kind of experience -- not in a bad way. But I've remembered, after living two and a half years in South Bend and knowing a lot of people by default and being able to find things to do, that I'm rather severely shy and have a hard time talking comfortably with people I don't know -- people I'm looking to befriend, that is, not entertain in the grocery checkout line during the fifteen minute waiting period. I might have learned to disguise my introversion since college, and I can turn on that charm (yes, I do have charm! just don't get me talking about church problems and gender issues) and that laughing energy in an instant and fool all the strangers at the party into thinking I'm this extravagantly extroverted woman without a care in the world, and I'm not faking exactly; that facade is really part of who I am -- like a beetle's exoskeleton is part of who (what) it is. But there's a soft and squishy underneath, and it makes me internally reserved.
And here, where I live now, there aren't any sophisticated parties where I can be funny and charming and make myself forget that I'm usually terrified of people my age. There aren't any parties at all. So I get to know people by running into them on an individual basis, over and over again, since this is an exceedingly small town. And I've never really known how to relate to the vast majority of my generation -- I get along better with the forty-plus crowd. So trying to expand my social horizons has become less effortless and more a quest for a few true friends (I treasure the ones I already have, mind you) in my area. Church is the most sensible outlet I can think of at the moment. It's a good stretching experience; one of my worst tendencies is to isolate myself either because I'm depressed or lazy or prefer not to be bothered. Having to attend church every week has goaded me back into the realm of humanity.
I know eventually my singleness will make me sad again, but I'm hoping to build enough of a good life here that I can fall back on it when those rough days come -- and that means investing, not only in my writing, but in people.
I have two great passions: Art and children. And there are plenty of kids around here who need an adult's mentorship, and plenty of room for the community to offer it.
I don't know. Everything is changing. I love that it is. There's a lot to think about besides my own loneliness, and a lot to do, which is even better than the thinking sometimes. And because the progress is slow, I think the change will be more lasting.
It's good.
Lately it's just theorizing -- I'm still single, I still want to be married, I still want a family, and that still looks to be a long way off, given the givens -- but I don't mind it as much. I'm finding a church home for the first time in seven years, I'm finding ways to be involved, I'm making a new friend or two in the process, and I'm seeing places where I can be of some use to people around me. It's not going to replace the goal of marriage, certainly, but the grief and the ache of being single have eased these last few months. I'm grateful for the respite, for as long as it lasts.
Things are never perfect, but my dad used to tell me to look at the overall progress -- to view my life like a line graph. As long as the line is going up, he's say, you're making progress. And that's good.
Some of the biggest challenges I have faced over the past four years have related primarily to budgeting and money management, and to coming to a healthy balance in my social life. I'm happy with where I've come in the last year in particular -- I see significant progress in financial responsibility (I'm a spendthrift at heart -- I buy lots of cheap things rather than a few expensive things -- I have that much Scots in me), and tendrils of growth in the making of more friends (which is something of a challenge in my small town where I'm one of the only young people I know).
This year I'd like to waste less time watching movies and TV on DVD -- an exceptionally easy thing to do when I come home from work drained and exhausted and I just want some brain candy -- and focus more on my writing and my reading. I've built quite a collection of books since I was a little kid, and I still haven't read about half of them.
Moving to Michigan has been a jarring kind of experience -- not in a bad way. But I've remembered, after living two and a half years in South Bend and knowing a lot of people by default and being able to find things to do, that I'm rather severely shy and have a hard time talking comfortably with people I don't know -- people I'm looking to befriend, that is, not entertain in the grocery checkout line during the fifteen minute waiting period. I might have learned to disguise my introversion since college, and I can turn on that charm (yes, I do have charm! just don't get me talking about church problems and gender issues) and that laughing energy in an instant and fool all the strangers at the party into thinking I'm this extravagantly extroverted woman without a care in the world, and I'm not faking exactly; that facade is really part of who I am -- like a beetle's exoskeleton is part of who (what) it is. But there's a soft and squishy underneath, and it makes me internally reserved.
And here, where I live now, there aren't any sophisticated parties where I can be funny and charming and make myself forget that I'm usually terrified of people my age. There aren't any parties at all. So I get to know people by running into them on an individual basis, over and over again, since this is an exceedingly small town. And I've never really known how to relate to the vast majority of my generation -- I get along better with the forty-plus crowd. So trying to expand my social horizons has become less effortless and more a quest for a few true friends (I treasure the ones I already have, mind you) in my area. Church is the most sensible outlet I can think of at the moment. It's a good stretching experience; one of my worst tendencies is to isolate myself either because I'm depressed or lazy or prefer not to be bothered. Having to attend church every week has goaded me back into the realm of humanity.
I know eventually my singleness will make me sad again, but I'm hoping to build enough of a good life here that I can fall back on it when those rough days come -- and that means investing, not only in my writing, but in people.
I have two great passions: Art and children. And there are plenty of kids around here who need an adult's mentorship, and plenty of room for the community to offer it.
I don't know. Everything is changing. I love that it is. There's a lot to think about besides my own loneliness, and a lot to do, which is even better than the thinking sometimes. And because the progress is slow, I think the change will be more lasting.
It's good.
Labels: progress
posted by The Prufroquette @ 2:53 PM
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