September Metaphor

My favorite season is barely apparent, but I relish my early-morning walks when it's possible to feel a subtle change in the air. Summer finally relented to cooler temperatures and this past week we received rain nearly every day. It won't be long before the mellowing light transforms our back yard into a shrine of gold-green splendor .

Whenever possible, I'll enjoy the desert's slow-moving shift to autumn. It's been a difficult summer, full of emotionally-charged change. My daughter will soon be leaving to serve an eighteen-month mission for our church. Life with children who have ADD and Asperger syndrome continues to present new parental challenges. A close relative endured another bout of depression and anxiety, requiring us to balance her needs with those of our family.

Such conditions force me to peel away more layers of pretense and denial about the effects of my past. It's necessary but often painful to discover the raw truth of who I really am. For months I've neglected this blog and other writing projects, feeling overwhelmed by relationship issues and failure to deal with them in an appropriate manner. Too often I've felt resentful about the emotional toll, then so guilty about the resentment that creative impulses shut down. More often, I've given in to apathy as stifling as August heat. Breaking free of self-defeating behavior seemed impossible. I told myself I no longer cared.

Somehow I need to commit to writing regardless of personal circumstances. To close the door on memories of past mistakes or concerns about the future for a designated time each day. To allow a degree of artistic playfulness into my life. To realize the possibilities inherent in imperfection.

Someone once said that she writes to identify her deepest thoughts; even when I'm working on something unrelated to my experience, I've found this to be true. Writing is one vital key to understanding my emotions, relationships and, ultimately, to gain a degree of healing.

In that respect, September is the perfect metaphor for embracing change and moving to another phase of life. With thoughtful work and the grace of God, I can turn it into something beautiful.

Decisions

I really don't know what to say about this summer. We got in a modest family vacation and my husband and I were able to enjoy a couple of cultural events by ourselves when we celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary. All of this is more than many people can do these days. I know how blessed we are.

I just wonder if writing is ever going to pay off even marginally and I wonder if I should concentrate on finding some kind of employment that will enable my husband to actually retire when thirty years at his current job are over. The past couple of weeks I've spent hours looking at job prospects or reading about a couple of careers that seemed mildly appealing only to discover that there is no work in those fields here. I'm no longer a twentysomething who is free to work any where since my husband has a stable career and family issues need careful consideration.

Essentially I want to continue writing more than anything else. Is it too much of a "luxury" to spend a lot of time on it right now? Am I selfish, egotistical or unwilling to face reality?

Most people don't live their dreams. In hard times they fold or do whatever is necessary to survive. It might come to that. I read the news. But, as I told my husband, I spent too many years believing that I wasn't good enough to succeed with my talents. If I have to work outside the home, I want to do something meaningful. I've just got to figure out what's right for this stage of my life.

In spite of the economy, people still write books. But most of them have day jobs. Decisions . . .