Stream of Consciousness...

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.