I have no idea if a single person will find this interesting or worth reading. I have no expectations of that at all. This is an unedited, unplanned stream of consciousness piece I wrote tonight that may or may not make any sense. I wasn't sure whether to post it or not since it a.) probably isn't very exciting and yet b.) it is very personal. But I decided to do it anyway. So, if you want to read a sample of what is going through my mind, great. If not, our next post will probably be about baby stuff so come back later! Here it is:
I am admittedly a terrible journal writer. And blogger. And
Facebooker. I like the idea of it and the benefits of it, but I have just never
been good at consistently sitting down and writing out what I am doing,
thinking, or feeling. It usually comes to me in bursts. Certain nights when I
almost HAVE TO put my thoughts down before I can sleep. Today, the trigger was
looking back through all of my Facebook messages starting back in 2006 when I
got one. Some people’s names I hardly recognized. Acquaintances through a
mutual friend trying to coordinate group events freshman year. Old crushes that
lasted for only a week or two that I had all but forgotten about. There are
also the long lost friends who were close to me at earlier times in my life but
have become almost completely separated through the sieve of time. Others are those
whose friendship has survived years of no contact, living in different states,
or being oceans away. I almost got to re-live past years of my life through
snippets of vivid memories captured in Facebook messages. I wish I had more so
that I could paint the picture of the past with greater detail. This all got me
thinking about my story. I wouldn’t trade the current chapter of my story for
anything in the world, but part of me wishes I could go back and either re-live
or at least watch memories of my past. I know I will be thinking about this
exact time in my life with the same fondness in the not too distant future.
Living in a new state, starting a career, and poised to welcome a son into the
world in the next month or so. His story is about to start. It seems like mine
has only just begun, and yet major sections of my story are about to be about
somebody else. A major purpose in my life is to help write a new story’s
beginning even though mine is in full swing. This makes me feel a little bit
selfish in how I have always considered the narrative of my life. Being in this
position now makes me realize how little I have considered how I am a role
player in the story of Glenn and the story of Vicki. Parents seem so steady,
wise, and infallible. I suppose it always seemed to me that they had their
stories already figured out and things moved along at a fairly predictable
pace. I never realized until now how cloudy of a future it seemed at times to
my parents. Even though I can probably be classified as having a “predictable”
future with a steady job in a company and an industry I may be in for the rest
of my life, the future still seems so unknown to me. I guess I never realized
before how much my parents probably felt this. In a way, though, I think I was
right. Parenthood is about sacrificing for love of a child. It means no longer
viewing my story in the context of ME and ME, but viewing myself as a key role
player in his story. It doesn’t mean my story won’t continue and progress, but
I can already feel a change in how I will view it. When he looks back at
pictures of his birth and his early childhood, he won’t see it as MY story of
raising a child. He will see it as his own. The foundations of the rest of his
life. I suppose all this reflection on my life and my story is to make sure to
make it a good one moving forward. Make memories and do the things that matter
most. Make my story one worth living and help my son’s to be the same.
