Just Like a Novel

When I was younger, and much more delusional than I am now, I vividly remember telling my mother during an argument, "I want to be happy and have fun. If my life isn't those things, what's the point?"

And I had fun. I had a life filled with those exceptional moments that caused those around me to get wide-eyed and laugh loudly. Jokingly, we liked to say it was adventurous this life of mine, worth watching because it was so awkwardly exciting, like a soap opera.

And then I set myself down and decided to be a grown up and try things for which I wasn't really made (like sharing a living space with someone, playing mommy to a grown man, cooking, and working really hard at getting nowhere). And my life stopped being filled with exceptional moments (except when it came to my daughter, of course).

Instead it was filled with dishes, frustrations at feeling hemmed in by another's things (sometimes literally and sometimes figuratively), and labeling things I once considered important (fun, happiness, exceptional moments of awkwardness, freedom, and creativity) as something that should be left to a novel and out of a grown up life.

This got me... well, it got me what I have called my "basement self". There was lots of fried foods from fast food restaurants, lots of TV, lots of not touching, not loving, and trying to remember to breathe.

And then I remembered, I wasn't that girl, and I certainly didn't want to be that woman. I don't want my daughter to think it is okay to wallow in self-pitying cowardice and not live her life.

So I climbed out of the basement and many of you have, over the past couple of years, watched this exploration of all the boundaries, fears, paths, loves, and freedoms within myself.

I have sought numerous friends to help me along. You are so very wonderful. You put up with my blathering, my blogging, my rants, my tears, my laughter, my testing, my mistakes, my dreams, and my delusions. And I have also sought professional help (because that, too, was a fear). And it did help.

My doctor said lots of pertinent things, such as "People are NOT Projects!" which turned my stomach, made me light headed, and so ashen I had people asking me for the next few hours if I had seen a ghost. Truths sometimes hurt.

He also told me, "Life is not a soap opera." This made me raise an eyebrow. But I'm beginning to get it. Life should not be a soap opera. I do not want to be that doomed character repeating the same cycles with the same horrible plot lines for the next 75 years.

But I will no longer condemn my lovely books for giving me false hopes and brain washing me into thinking life is more dramatic, passionate, awkwardly delightful, poignant, startling, and worthwhile than it is. Because I am exceptional enough (as are you) that my life and most of the moments in it are worthy of novel. Worthy enough to inspire others to try their best, accept joy where we find it, or better yet, to look for joy. Beauty, joy, passion, hopes, love, and trust are all there for the taking, but too many people are ignoring it.

Yes, things are going to hurt. Yes, there will be setbacks. That is how we know we are actually living. The not knowing what you're going to get, but having the deterimination to give it your damnedest, presents the most amazing situations.

So, for all of you walking around with the motto "Life is not a soap opera" would you care to try on my new motto "This is the Novel of my life"?