Unapologetically difficult…

January 30, 2026 by Leave a Comment

Many of us are approaching that final door leading to the end of life while navigating the inevitable passage of getting older. On the opposite side, there are fewer and fewer opportunities surrounding our diminishing future. Relax, I am not being overly morbid, just realistic. The reality is that, what lies ahead, at least for me, will be an awful lot of “lasts” with material things and, sadly, people in my life. In addition, that list of things I’ve always wanted to do, especially places to go, like the Amalfi Coast, well, one by one, they’ve all been eliminated. Reality, wearing its painful Sunday best, has taken control.

How can we honestly say that we know ourselves? There’s been so much about what makes me…me, that I have not explored. Of course, I’ve definitely spent time navigating a great deal of useless bullcrap in the struggle to deal with the challenges of being me and, here I am, nearing the end of life’s ride, still dealing with external judgement, maintaining some element of authenticity beside outside pressure to conform.

Aging gracefully is big business, for some, a never-ending quest to ward off time by enduring a nip here, tuck there, injections that might work for some but not all; isn’t it a bit ludicrous to have a face that doesn’t match an aging body? Then again, this is not terribly different from people who comment on my determination to keep working at this late date. My personal choice is to appreciate where I’m at, physically, as I navigate my personal disconnect from obsessively focusing on youth and accept the normal reality of aging.

In this very moment of my life, I’m pretty much done with those in this world who demand some element of conformity to a given process, especially that of a political nature. I’m ready, willing, and damn able to risk all rejection to live my life authentically. My struggle to set boundaries and needs to make others comfortable has resulted in stress and resentment and I’ve come to accept the fact that I might not know who I am, most of my behaviors are conditioned responses to the environment in which I was raised and currently live.

Honestly, I’ve let go of so many things due to not being sure if I’ll make it to their finish, but, at least my ambitious nature hasn’t given up on me. In some ways, I still enjoy feeling the pressure which can surround a project or some idea that rolls through my head. There’s that familiar spark of lightness that happens often, a big part of me being me where I can simply be and do without attaching any personal significance to something and, in a way, enjoy being in control. This is one of those fleeting moments that makes you smile, become a child again and the world, for a brief moment, is my playground, where I can love people without needing any of them and bring real meaning to what I do without being anxious about what might happen next. Sounds great, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, much like Boston weather, if I wait a few minutes, that euphoric dose disappears and reality sets back in.

The most tragic part of it all is that, as this trip around the sun grows shorter, so do some relationships that will never heal, arguments that rear their ugly heads with no possibility of compromise, and the worst, total lack of contact and respect from family who glare arbitrarily from angry corners of my immediate universe. How sad that the doors of my life will close forever, leaving unresolved differences behind. Sad as well that all things holding precious memories will end up in some stranger’s hands or permanently discarded due to familial indifference and estrangement.

My days will continue to move along with the focus on work and staying with my attempts at creative and interesting writing. I enjoy the challenge to share words that people will read and enjoy, and sometimes dislike when I delve into controversial topics. I need the structure and self-pressure, especially when my writing attempts hit the dreaded “wall” where I have absolutely nothing meaningful to share because my aging brain refused to cooperate.

It’s doubtful that I’ll be remembered by anyone for my writing, except for a few people in my immediate circle but what I have is a gift, a desire to write and I am a hard-headed, determined, woman who continues to focus on a well orchestrated narrative worth sharing. My life’s ending will include periodic episodes of rejection, criticism, missed opportunities, jealousies, and plenty of bitterness, but I’ve had to find my own way of being and staying present in life’s moments, of growing older, possibly throwing in the towel, digging in, and I’ve done so, harder than ever.

I feel that, when you learn this, things change. John Steinbeck once said, “Now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” Given that, I will damn well continue to be myself, a work still in progress, very difficult and far from perfect. And that’s wonderful.

From the Writer’s Workshop:What’s the most difficult thing about being you? Elaborate.
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Create, connect and share…

February 25, 2022 by 6 Comments

OIP

Why does anyone start something new like a job, recipe, or project? Obviously, there is always some guiding influence which directs an individual to make changes, or choices, in life. Sometimes, we all have the need for a little adventure, both to move away from the boredom of a situation or…some need to leave more of a significant imprint in our lives. 

I feel that when a person spends a good deal of time reading the literary works of others, down deep inside is the urge to express themselves through writing. This applies to many other artful means of self-expression. Hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, correct? One never knows how well their efforts will be acknowledged, even appreciated, unless they try. 

And so, I did just that several years ago. The trials and tribulations of dealing with a mother suffering with Alzheimer’s paved the way to document so much of what was slipping away, day after day. During her many sleepless nights, I sat up, ready to thwart her wandering and started drafting a book and building a website, something to leave behind for my children and grandchildren. A collection of all my mother forgot and even more that I was determined to remember. 

In many ways, I credit my late mother’s dementia for encouraging one of the very things she sought to destroy when I was a teenager…writing in a daily journal and documenting much of the pain that children endure as they struggle through their growing years. 

Ironic, and I often wonder how many others venture into new and positive challenges based on how they have lived, and the people involved. Is it a mission, of sorts, to redefine ourselves, or…rewrite the history of what has made us who we are?

In some ways, I’ve tried to do both.  

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Tell us about why you started blogging to begin with. 

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Heartful purging…

February 14, 2016 by 2 Comments

Date:  February 14, 2016…Valentine’s Day

Place:  Kent Cliffs, New York

Time:  Not enough

Subject:  Purging

 

Living in the Northeast blesses us with seasons; some we love and others just cause everyone to scatter and climb onto the nearest soapbox to complain.  

Really, people?  It’s Winter and it happens once every year, why the shock and dismay?  Why not just move, become a snowbird and settle down in God’s Waiting Room, aka/Florida, to escape Winter’s wrath …snow, ice and brutal temperatures?  Funny thing is, everyone who makes such a move can’t wait to avoid the Florida sun.  Once they get there,  many hide inside their air conditioned condos or other dwellings of choice, mostly at all-you-can-eat buffet restaurants where they fill their Tupperware and complain about, what else, the Heat!

Sitting here at home on this day of hearts and romance, I’m doing my own hiding of sorts here in my office, that little room-of-my-own.  In fact, most are doing the same as the siege of an intense Arctic Freeze has our area in its icy grasp.  It’s almost impossible to move without feeling a chill reaching out to poke you from under every door or glare back through frosted windows.  Early this morning it was -14 but has now warmed-up considerably, reaching a balmy 8 degrees in the early afternoon hours.

I decided to peruse my files of writing ideas and drafts, realizing that I’ve fallen-off considerably with my postings.  But, there is no soapbox waiting for me to vent any lame excuses like life keeps getting in the way and other blah blah bullshit.  When you are a true Writer, the creative process is always present.  Laziness is the real culprit behind our, inability to produce material, excuses.  I especially need to stop blowing that smoke up both my own and everyone else’s patootie.  Let’s get real, when someone has a passion for the arts, little gets in their way.  For example, Peter Robinson, Jr., a dear high school friend is a very talented photographer who shares his work without hesitation and graciously allowed me to place some of his talent in my blog post today. Peter is a true visionary who captures everyday scenes through his camera lens and the result is just magical.  Rarely does a day pass without at least one photograph from him, the sign of a dedicated artist.

 

                                                           

 

 

 

Amazing, isn’t he?  

 

I’ve finally learned one important thing , whatever the form of creative expression, it should never be done selectively, as if one is doing the world some random favor.  Don’t you agree?  <Note to self:  recite this pep talk into the mirror every day>

 

The whole subject of purging hit me when our daughter stopped-by to borrow a cooking item and as I rummaged through a kitchen closet,  she suggested that it was time for me to “P”.    Hold any/all wisecracks.   It did make me stop and think, about that finite wall of time that is ahead and all the stuff that is entwined in our lives; things that are important, not to be misplaced, and others than make us wonder what in hell we were thinking when we purchased them.  Of course, the feeling one gets from purging either material or emotional baggage is beyond cathartic.

For now, I’ll hold onto my stuff.  I will also endeavor to make every possible effort to clear the traffic-jam of ideas and thoughts in my head put into some intelligent format while, hopefully, there is still…time.

 

 

 Don’t die with your music still inside you.
Listen to your intuitive inner voice
and find what passion stirs your soul.
– Wayne Dyer

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