On Vanishing

It's pretty late right now, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep if I don't journal my thinking a bit. And I thought maybe the things I'm thinking about will be beneficial to others, so I'll just put it out there on this little blog.

Lately, I've been sensing that something in me is vanishing. I've been getting the sense that I've neglected a part of me that I used to nourish before marriage and family and the unconventional choices I've made surrounding my children. I also have regrets about all the things I didn't finish or pursue; like my degree, a career, my art, my singing. I've been scared that there's a part of me that never really grew and it's already beginning to die.

So I've been saying to myself that I should never stop learning and striving. I should keep searching for that place where that part of me can continue to live. At the end of my life, I should be proud of how I lived, I should have found the answers, had some success and somebody should have something to say about me, otherwise what's the point?

That made sense to me, but at this moment I'm having a little epiphany.

What if tomorrow I couldn't sing? Well, lots of people can't sing and get along just fine. Singing is really a small thing after all, and I feel that there are a few musical family members that have passed who would forgive me for that sentiment. Why? Because there are so many ways to communicate love, and hopes and dreams besides singing. I'm not a bird after all. I'm a person with the power of speech.

What if tomorrow I couldn't speak? Thankfully, I write pretty well. I'm good at conveying emotions on paper, and getting my needs met would be easy if I had someone in range of my paper airplanes.

I'm also very good at drawing. I could make money that way. I already have done that. I draw people's children mainly. We all want to see someone we love all mapped out in pencil. There's something touching about it. That's why I do it.

But what if I lost the use of my hands and could no longer write, draw, work or speak? You know what my first worry would be? How could I let my family know I love them? That I'm so glad I'm not alone?

If I couldn't speak or sing or write or draw (or blog) I would still exist. I wouldn't vanish. You know why? Because I have my family. I have a husband who would still talk to me, even if I couldn't speak. I have children that would be close to me even if I couldn't chase them down. I have friends that would stick around even if I wasn't cracking them up. I know a few who have been there when I wasn't so funny.

See, the reason I want to sing, is to sing to somebody. I could sing to strangers, which I enjoy, and they can go home and forget me. I would have some attention. I would have a hobby. I would have a little thing that energizes me. Is writing a song for my husband less worthwhile? It's certainly not "blogworthy". Neither is writing a letter to my son and putting it in the mailbox for him to find, or drawing a blue jay for my daughter to put on her wall. It wouldn't matter to a lot of people. But it would sure matter a lot to the people that matter to me.

I've been so busy playing that nasty tape of fantasy, shame and regret to really tune in to the world around me, and I have been vanishing. I haven't been talking or listening or engaged. "What?" That's been my word lately. It's like I've been in a dream.

And tonight I had a moment when I realized something that seems so true about life, and helps keep things in perspective.

If I fell down at the end of it all because I had exhausted myself finding ways to feed my ego, at the expense of those who loved me, nothing I had ever done would make sense, because I never completely imprinted myself on anyone's heart, that's when I would truly vanish.