Tag Archives: story

tell me twice.

by Ed Williams

My car is in the shop which means I get to use Daryl’s car for the day. My first task is making sure he gets to school by 8:00 am. I literally throw together some clothes to wear. I grab an army green pair of sweats with last years living room paint all over them and a ripped waist-band. Hardly awake, I manage to grab a “Jakes Bar” tee shirt in the dark. I don’t have time to shower and barely shove a wet toothbrush down my throat. I manage to wrestle with a pair of white athletic socks I stepped on lying on the floor and locate my brown dress shoes near the front door.

As I stumble down the outside stairs I catch my reflection in the glass-doored entrance to our building of condos. My hair has been pushed into some unnatural sculpture resembling a cross between a 50’s beehive and a Billy Idol video. My glasses are somewhat askew, and at the risk of sounding politically incorrect, I look like a refugee that’s washed up on the shore of some country that’s going to turn me away. This is not good.

As we’re driving to his school, Daryl proceeds to tell me about a dream he had last night that included some obnoxious tipping for a relative who was dressed as a waiter (server) providing us with a half a glass of Coke (no alcohol.) Can this day get much worse?

As we pull up to the school Daryl sees another teacher and blurts,”Oh look! Miss Carol got her hair cut! It looks great.” At which point I slink deeper down into my seat and quip, “Please don’t introduce me to anyone this morning. I look like shit.” To which my Husband retorts, “Oh don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

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can I get a witness?

I’ve always had this personal fear that someday, somehow, some WAY, I’m going to be found out as a fake. A fraud. I believe it comes from some inner insecurity that maybe I’m just not good enough.

I think we must all go through that at one time or another. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. I’d hate to think it was only me. It isn’t just me. Right? Emoticon wink.

I’ve been in the process of a true personal evolution (as opposed to a false one). I’m not completely sure if it came from a latent New Years resolution, or perhaps some misguided third times the charm mid life crisis, but it’s here. And I’m a little frightened.

I am fast approaching 58 (does my age make the mid life crisis a mute point?), and I’ve come to the realization that I want to do something I actually like… make that LOVE, for this autumn season of my world. The interesting part (I say interesting because ridiculous sounds too negative) is that I’m not quite sure what it is I actually WANT to do?

Again, I’m guessing (make that desperately hoping) that some of YOU struggle with this as well. If not, well, then consider this yet another coming out story.

One of the problems I have is that I still believe that I’m a spry 18 year old on the inside. It’s when I pass those God awful mirror reflections where my Dad seems to make his appearance (God rest his soul) and I refuse to admit that man is me. Did I just use the word God twice in a sentence? Would that be considered a double negative to an atheist? Do I capitalize atheist? I digress. Squirrel!

Anyway…

I’m looking to change what I do “for a living?” That being challenging enough, I have what I THINK is loads of talent that I just don’t know how to channel into a way that makes sense. A way that I would feel is authentic. To me. To you. And also, a way that would make money.

So I continue to deal with the notion that any day now, I’m going to wake up to finger pointing whisperers who are laughing at how inadequate I am. At how silly I look out here struggling to find “my sense of self.” I hear snickers of “he can’t do that, he’s past his prime,” and “how immature to think he can just drop his current financial freedom (herein known as living paycheck to paycheck) to actually “pursue a dream.” “What a phony. What a fraud.”

I’m not looking for reassurance, I assure you. At least, not from you. I’m searching for reassurance from me. I want to bust out of the closet AGAIN, to become who I’m meant to be. Isn’t that what we all want? Don’t we all want to be authentic? To be true to ourselves? Don’t we all hide pieces of us that we sort of hold back on for fear of ridicule, or laughter. Like tripping in the cafeteria at 9th grade lunch.

I’m overwhelmed with paths I want to take at this point in my life. But I’m going to find one. One that works. It may not be that great American novel, but it will be MY journey. Maybe that’s what I’m so afraid of. I’ve always had a direction. A goal. A destination ahead. The path of always being in control. Always certain.

It’s so scary for a control freak like me. To enjoy the process now. To continue to listen to my heart (maybe I’m not a fraud after all), to go with the flow (I hate cliches), to make a plan (let’s be somewhat realistic here), and to live in the moment.

I’m fortunate that I have a husband who continuously supports me (some say support, some say blind love. Potato. Potahto.) And I DO get such lovely feedback from the social media community (is there a name for that in the urban dictionary?) So here goes.

Wish me luck.

Not sure why I chose this photo.
Maybe I’m shocked because I need a manicure.

2015/01/img_0402.jpg

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