On Being A Goose

I'm doing more to reconnect with the present, the now, the here within which I find myself. Click here to find out more about Five for Ten with Momalom.

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I'm going to start this note by going back a little. So please bear with me.

This blog started as a way to reconnect with myself, to find the lost parts of myself I had misplaced and even forgotten about. I mean, when you've lost something, you don't even realize it's lost until you need it and go looking for it, right?

I found out I was misplaced. Huh.

Motherhood created a new focus and direction in my life, and before long, I had embraced it so fully (and was dealing with all sorts of the fun and not-so-fun things that happened to go along with it) that I left a part of myself behind.

I love being my boy's mummy. He's a wonderfully real boy. He's got the humor and good looks and charm and curiosity and mischievousness of any little boy. He's also got twice the energy and stubbornness and fortitude of most people I know. Including me. My mini-me.

The past few years of writing down the drivel that pops in and disturbs the dust bunnies between my ears has forced me to reach more intently for myself. And, as with all other things I attempt, I go overboard. You could say I succeeded. You could also say to back off and stop thinking about myself so much. You would be right. Time to refocus again.

I'm going through a dry spell... not so much written down, but that's not because I've got nothing to say. No, I have words in my head all day forming sentences and topics and themes and even anecdotes. But when it comes to sharing them, I find I've pulled into myself and don't want to share so much. Maybe it has something to do with another move and starting over again... bringing up memories of my childhood when I faced move after move to new towns, meeting new people, starting new schools, only to drop everything and leave it all behind. Including my heart and dreams. (And this is before email and the internet and cheap long-distance plans, so it was hard to stay in touch with friends for long.) I didn't want to make that emotional investment anymore. I pulled in, didn't reach out much... tested the waters slowly. Only when I was sure it was safe would I come out of my shell. Only to be hit upside the head with relocating yet again. (Some warning would have been nice, parental units.) Bring on the social PTSD.

And that brings us back to the present. I'm a nomad. I move around. It's in my blood now. But here I'm not so much a turtle in my shell as a silly goose.

That's me. Silly goose. Splashing around, looking cute, making a lot of noise, only to retreat when someone approaches. Not the best way for a new start.

Not very courageous. But isn't that where it all starts? With where one is? And while I might be a silly goose, I've now got my precocious goofy gosling with me to keep me focused.

It's a nice balance -- it's a little of him, and some of me.

He gives me an excuse, a reason for trying new things. For reaching out. For connecting. And now, for reconnecting.

He helps give me courage.