Tuesday, March 29, 2011

In another life

Yesterday's blog and some of its comments left me really thinking of eras and 'lives'.    I've had a few.   I'm happy with my life for the most part, but just because that is true doesn't mean that I don't get the overwhelming feeling some days where I want to shake my head, rub my eyes and scream,  "How did this happen?  How did I get here?"  There are times when my current existence makes me feel unrecognizable to even myself, if you knew me fifteen years ago you'd give yourself whiplash nodding in agreement.     Sometimes I see it as evolution and maturing, and other times I guess I just find myself feeling displaced somehow, like I lost my way and ended up somewhere totally alien, where I must wear the mask and just hope someone doesn't realize that I'm a total imposter.

I'm being pretty dramatic, I know, because I ultimately can say that I've never truly compromised what is important to me or who I really am.   ' Playing the game'  is crucial to success in so many ways, so it feels dumb for me to whine about it like a clueless kid.   But here I am, doing it anyway.  I suppose it's just in my nature to want it all, strictly on my terms.   Ultimately I know these days of  elementary school PTA, playdates, parents and pretending to have something in common with the world I'm enveloped in will eventually come to an end.   I'll look back on it fondly and lament that my babies have all grown, and all the irritating stuff that comes along with this era will fade into the background of my memory, only the faces of my kids as they are now will remain.   So it's worth it, that's what I'm banking on.

Still, I can't help but think about my next life, the one I plan on having when the days of child rearing and dodging the cookie cutter suburban mindset that acts as my own personal quicksand is behind me.   I have noticed that I tend to look backwards when planning to go forward, so I know I'll reach for what brings me joy, comfort and a feeling of home and belonging.  My parents adapted very well to the US,  I obviously love this country but I've never had the strong urge to stay here.   I can't think of anything better than a life filled with afternoon matés on a pretty balcony in BA, nighttime tango bars and trips to Mendoza,  Mar de Plata and Patagonia.    I love Argentina, the thought of making my way back there makes me happy, walking the streets lends me a familiar feeling of childhood times surrounded by my family,  the vibe haunts the cities and envelops me with warmth.   Since today my song challenge is to post a song that makes me happy, I can only contribute a video that I love, because this is what Buenos Aires sounds like …. one day it will be my new life, where I can keep only what I want from this one and go on my merry way.   How can that make me feel  anything but utterly thrilled?




2 comments:

  1. God... are you me?! And if you're not, will you marry me (if/when I leave my husband, for my next life)? (Oh right, if I ever get a divorce, I'm not likely to ever get married again, forgot.) Of course, I don't have a background in an interesting place like you do, and my plans for my post-suburban, post-childrearing, post-pretending-to-fit-in-with-all-the-other-mothers-on-the-block life are not about a place as much as about a feeling... but that feeling definitely thrives on where I'm coming from.

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  2. :) Johanna, I suspect that there are more of us out there than may have once thought. It's tiring trying to push a square peg into a triangular hole, sometimes I'm exhausted from the sheer effort of just existing. I just try to remember that it's an actual choice when I feel overwhelmed. I chose to do this, and my children deserve the experience of a normal life while growing up (they can opt out at any moment, I won't argue with them.)
    When that doesn't work, I tango with my vacuum cleaner and hang on to the fact that I'm never going to be ordinary, and while that may sometimes make things harder in day to day life, I wouldn't trade places with any other conventional 'mum'.

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