Friday, July 26, 2013

The Bag Lady

I dislike a junky car, which is one of the reasons why I don’t like to go anywhere with my husband if we have to go in his vehicle. The floor of his truck is encrusted with grime and is filled with trash. By comparison, my own vehicle is a near spotless paradise. The outside may need washing, but the inside is clutter-free, and you don’t have to move a ton of stuff just to sit down. So, imagine my surprise when I realized the other day that my SUV has suddenly become a glaring example of a disorganized junk heap.

Fortunately, my vehicle still pales in comparison to the disaster that is my husband’s truck. Instead of loose mess everywhere, I have several bags: three in the backseat and one in the front passenger floorboard.

The contents of these bags are specific to the different hats I’m wearing these days. My Harry Potter bag has the prompt book and sound cues for the play (Crimes of the Heart) I’m directing this summer. The pink bag I purchased at a rummage sale for .50 cents contains the clothes that have been rejected from that play. The bag I bought in England, depicting Queen Elizabeth II on 50 pound bank notes, houses the papers I have yet to grade for the composition and literature courses I’m teaching this term. The recycled-material bag featuring a girl riding a bicycle with “She traveled far” embossed on the front holds my writing materials for upcoming articles and assignments. My purse counts as a bag, too, and in it are the contents one needs for being a mother and wife: credit cards.

I’m rather ashamed to admit that my purse, my family bag, is the smallest of the lot right now. If I were to get all psycho-analytical babble-speak for a moment, I’d have to come to the conclusion that my family receives the least of my attention at this time, which happens to be true. The other areas of my life have crowded in on my family responsibilities, and I am so overwhelmed by these other duties until I go home each night and just collapse. My son has accused me more than once this summer of being too tired or too busy to talk with him. My Russian daughter is visiting and is only here for 20 more days. I feel as if I’ve ignored her, which upsets me to no end because this is her first visit in three years. In the mornings, I drop off my step-daughter for day camp, and sometimes I do not see her again until the next morning when it’s time to repeat the process. My husband now knows how I feel when I become a hunting widow during deer season.

The fact that two of my bags relate to my directorial duties lets me know which aspect of my life is dominating it. I love the theater, and I have enjoyed directing this play. At the same time, I have truly felt its consumption. If I didn’t have so many other things going on right now, and if I had more theater production under my belt, perhaps the responsibilities associated with the show wouldn’t be quite as daunting. If it were not for my assistant director and other support team members, I’d be a nervous wreck.

What’s most fascinating about the bags, though, is how they’ve compartmentalized my life and how, over time, the weight of each shifts. That shift represents how the load gets heavier or lighter for each part of my life. For example, soon I’ll be finished with my summer classes, so I can empty out my teaching bag for a few weeks. The last article I have due for a while will be submitted shortly after that, so I can put aside my writing bag, too. The play will close mid-August, and we won’t do anything with the theater for a few months, so that heavy load will lighten. Perhaps then, I can allow all of the weight to shift to my family bag; it’s too bad that by the time that shift happens, my Russian child will be gone.

Sometimes, I do get the urge to de-clutter and to just toss a bag or two. Yet, if I were I to throw away just one of the bags, I’d lose part of who I am as a person. Even when some bags get too heavy to tote, I still carry them. I have to because I’m a mother, wife, teacher, writer, and director. I enjoy all my roles, so I love my bags and their contents, even when some of them overwhelm me.

So, if you see my silver Trailblazer parked somewhere and get curious as to which aspect of my life is in control, just take a peek and see which bag looks heaviest. But just so you know, I never leave my purse in my vehicle. Its contents, like my family, are just too valuable to leave behind. Even though they are the smallest bag right now, they are still and always the most important one.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

A Lesson Learned

In late May, I got an email from the Alabama Writers' Conclave's review board that my short story "The Ghost" had won an award in their annual writing contest. Each category (mine was entered in short fiction) would have 4 honorable mentions plus 1st-4th awards and money prizes. The email did not say if I'd only gotten honorable mention or if I had placed, so I wasn't going to go to the program in case I didn't win anything.

Then, I got to looking at their conference programme, and one of my favorite authors was going to be a guest lecturer. I decided I would go. As it turned out, almost all of the guest lecturers were outstanding, and I really learned a lot that I can use in my own writing. However, what I really wanted to know was about my award.

The banquet and awards ceremony was Saturday night. We had a nice meal, a reading by a well-known author, and then the awards. My category was announced in the middle of the ceremony, and as the announcer started going through the list of honorable mentions, I just prayed that I had placed instead. As it turned out, I did. I got fourth place. My feelings? Believe it or not, disappointment. But why? Why should I feel disappointed when I got what I asked for? Well, the answer is simple, yet complex.

You see, I am a perfectionist, and I want to be the best at whatever I do. I want to win. I should be used to not winning, though, because most of the time, I don't. However, I always do well in my endeavors...just not as well as I'd like. I don't let it bother me after the initial disappointment. I just go find something else at which I think I can excel.

The problem, though, is why can't I let my accomplishments be good enough and stand for themselves? I later found out that there were somewhere between 50-75 entries in the Short Fiction category, so to finish 4th the first time I even entered their contest was actually pretty darn good. And, as my daughter pointed out to me, some of the people who entered pieces, and certainly those in attendance at the conference, have much more time available for their writing. Now, I am happy with my award, but not at first... no, not at first.

The lesson I should learn here is that, at some point, I am going to have to learn to be satisfied, happy, and proud of what I've done instead of feeling disappointed or go on looking for the next thing. I need to realize that I AM GOOD ENOUGH! Yet, I am not the only one who needs to come to terms this lesson. Apparently, there are a whole bunch of us "A" types out there who just cannot accept 2nd place. It's too bad really, but there it is.

I don't have any great epiphany here, but I do know that we all need to lighten up on ourselves and rejoice in our accomplishments and good qualities. We need to nicer to ourselves, and we need to learn that we are good enough, most of the time, just the way we are.