stuck in a moment I can't get out of...

Listening to Collective Soul.  An album I used to select on the jukebox in a bar I frequented about 10 years ago, in the dark ages of motherhood.  Yes, I said motherhood, in a bar after working second shift at a grocery store.  Dark and smoky, inhibitions absent, two coworkers, drinking beer, playin cards, selecting tunes. I was the designated tune master.  And I knew how to liven up a room!

My side of the bed empty at 3 am.  Mom's a regular at the bar.  She's having her alone time, away time.  The dark ages getting darker with every shift.  In the summer we hung out on her boat, docked at the marina for the season.  One summer the polytechnic convention was in town and we had one full week of fireworks to watch, and excuses to stay out past our curfew. At least we got fresh air that week!

Livin a life I wasn't meant to at the time.  Thinking I was allowed to play hooky from motherhood.  Wishing I could forge my own path again.  I woke up and pushed my kids toward the cereal bowls and video player, and back to the couch where I could recover from my mistake.  A mistake made again after the next shift at the grocery store.  I'm having fun, is that such a crime?

My criminal behavior was in neglecting my responsibilities; something I've thought about doing frequently since then. 

Johnny Cougar brings me to high school parties and foolish abandonment.  Jack and Diane were hanging out on the radio and I was hanging off couches, drunk and uninhibited.

"Life is short, even in its longest days."

John is so wise now.  Singing from his heart, his sick heart.  My friend gave me this man's words.  A wise friend in his own right.  Both gentlemen looking at their world with realistic colored glasses on.  And pondering life and death as if it's happening at the same time.  Men living for themselves and their families and the privilege of living.   How do they do that every single day?

On the other hand, I am searching for balance.  I'm sitting in the valley today and experiencing the quiet of contemplation.  Maybe this music that I love so much will help me find my place.  Sense of place, remember from the scraggly poem I wrote the other day?  I sense my place card moving to the opposite side of the table.  Is that right?  Am I imagining change or making it?

The Christian way of living as a mother and wife are to be happy with what you have been dealt, and make the most of your blessings.  But what about the blessings that you don't have yet?  The ones you may have if you turn the corner and walk toward a new destination?   Mom always used to tell me that if I didn't try something new, that I might never know if I could have done it.  Accomplishments are ahead.  I think.  I hope.  Just like accomplishments gained already, I must jump into opportunites as they arise.  Right?  otherwise, how do I stay alive and mobile and fresh?

I feel stagnant again.  I thought the forward momentum was going to last longer than two months.  Unfortunately I tasted what I could not have and it sparked my desire.  And what do middle aged women do with their desire?  Instinctively I breathe harder and attack life with energetic enthusiasm.  Until I am rejected again.  By the same person.  In the same way.  Rejected for breathing my breath and living my life and loving my way.  I don't like the trapped feeling of making the most of it; making the best of what I have; making sense of what I dislike.  I have had enough!  I'm tired of pushing against this tide and drowning in my own tears.  Why do I cry incessantly this week?  I know.  I'm sad.  The sadness of knowing myself...and that I don't fit here, now.

I'm sick of trying to mold myself into someone else's mold.  Mold me, shape me, hold me, make me...please God.