My personal time capsule revealed

It’s been a long time since I have had a blog entry. When I started this venture, I assumed I would continue writing regularly. That was my intention. After taking off to study and take the LSAT, I am writing again, and there is probably enough for a book, but more on that later. Come along with me on my latest discovery… You won’t believe this one!

On New Year’s Day, I found a box containing some pretty pertinent ‘old’ documents. I uncovered an actual time capsule!  This discovery, a few fill-in-the-blanks books that I completed when I was 7 and another when I was about 9-10 years old, revealed my thoughts and feelings at the time. Remember those?  These had blanks with prompts like, “If I had a magic ring, I would…,” and, “One thing I like about myself is…” It was, after all the 70s, and I guess we were all trying to get in touch with our feelings or something. At any rate, I was both amused and enlightened to read some of my entries. I won’t bore you with all of the gory details (although some are really funny!), but the general gist is that I was a happy child who was facing and squaring up a tremendous burden of loss; the fallout  from my parent’s divorce, which happened when I was only 4 years old. I cannot remember a time that I wanted my parents to get remarried, or live together, but these pages document (in my own little handwriting) that I did, in fact wish that they would do so. My therapist says that maybe there was a time in my life where I realized that either, a) this would never happen, or b) if it did, it wouldn’t really be a good thing, so I turned it around and stopped wishing for it, and maybe even tried to convince myself that their separateness was actually for the best. I was, and probably still am, an optimist at heart. I have always seen the good in people and have searched to expose the best in myself. I trust and I put myself ‘out there’ in a passionate and sometimes very vulnerable way. I yearn for the good and the just, but know that there is injustice and suffering as well, a fact I knew even at that tender young age.

The books revealed me saying that I wanted to be a ‘lwyer’ when I grow up (obviously my spelling prowess developed later!) and that I ‘wished I could buy a new car for my Mom.’  Some of you may remember the gold colored, chrome emblazoned 1963 Rambler.  This car was later dubbed, “The Welshmobile,” which was embarrassing in many ways, but did (usually) get us where we needed to go. This goofy car seemed so much older than anyone else’s I knew. I don’t mean older, as in cool classic, vintage car way, I mean just old. It was more primitive than you can imagine-particularly by today’s standards- no radio, one bench seat and lots and lots of shiny chrome. The interior of that car was probably downright dangerous in the sweltering summer heat. The Rambler was older than me- I was born five years after its model year, so I guess that may have contributed to why it seemed like a relic to me. It was just so damn different from everyone else’s car, a fact that I just hated.

As tempting as it is, I will not put my dream of becoming a lwyer on my lw school applications, no matter how cute it appears, because how reliable is a 6 year old in knowing what she wants to be when she grows up? Not very. It is cute, however, and I guess I wanted to find the right thing to help people. Helping people was a big theme throughout all of the books. I thought of myself as a friendly person who never wanted to hurt anyone-still true.  I did want to be a lawyer from as far back as I can remember. In second grade, I wrote that I wanted to be the Attorney General of the United States. When asked what that was, I told people ‘that I would prosecute federal cases.’  Hmmm. I think it makes some sense, as we did read the newspaper, and they were tumultuous times in the wake of Watergate, etc. I probably thought a high profile job looking for the good and the just for something as seemingly screwed up as the government was a great fit for me.

One odd question was, “If I had very long legs, I would…” and I wrote, “Make fun of other people.” This is pretty weird, but understandable, as being as short as I am, I was always teased about it. I hated that with a passion.  I guess I had aggression in that I thought if I were tall I would do it right back at the perpetrators. Nice. Lots of people did make fun of me, even adults, but it was the 70s when the term ‘politically correct’ hadn’t even been coined yet. I’d like to think it made me a ‘stronger’ person, but it didn’t. It might have made me try harder in sports, or maybe even make my voice louder, but knowing my personality, I may have developed those characteristics without being chastised for something I couldn’t control. (Wow, I may still harbor some frustration there…stupid as that may seem.)

These were all interesting and enlightening discoveries, and as I scanned my new-found cursive handwriting, I remembered filling in these books as a young person the age of my children.  It gave me a sense of myself and maybe in a small way helped me define myself, at least at that time. I bet it was cathartic. I am, however, most surprised by the ‘crown jewel’ of the box… the book that won me the 5^th grade Young Author’s Contest.  This book is entitled, (Get this!) “Coping with the Divorce.” Yeah, I know, no way, did I really write a book in 5^th grade at age 10 about how to cope with my parent’s divorce? Yes, I did. Frankly, it’s pretty amazing now, all these years later how poignant is remains. I remember wanting desperately to win the Young Authors contest. It was an honor, as they picked one book per grade. The winner’s book was typed (by the school secretary on a typewriter!), and then it was bound and put in the library for other kids to check out. You also had the distinct pleasure of attending an all day seminar with the winners from each elementary school in the entire district. It was SO cool. I was elated. It was truly one of the proudest moments of my life. I remember sitting at my little 5^th grade desk grasping the manila inter-office envelope that contained my manuscript. This was for ME! I carefully slid it out and my eyes skimmed the newly type-written text (in true ‘courier’ print- you should see it)! I was cautious to not to get fingerprints on it. My name adorned the first page, “Carol Welsh, 5^th grade, April 11, 1979.” I was an AUTHOR. These were MY WORDS. I was so thrilled. I also remember that we had to read this to the other authors at the seminar, and I believe, to the entire elementary school in a school-wide assembly. I would pay money to go back in time and be a fly on the wall to see the teacher and staff reactions to this book- what were they thinking? My therapist said that she bets I made a number of people uncomfortable. But there was someone at Warwick Elementary School who saw this and thought it was worthwhile. Someone was progressive thinking enough to realize that here was a kid with something to share and she actually had the courage to articulate it. Wow, how cool is that? The other piece that is contextually different from today, is that I was the ONLY child I knew (other than my siblings of course) who experienced divorce first-hand. I did not know a single other family who had gone through a divorce. I was referred to as “the broken family,” which, while I understand that it was the 70s and people didn’t know any differently, was extremely painful to me. I remember thinking we weren’t broken, we were just different, and beyond that I was frustrated to be labeled as broken, through no fault or doing of my own.

The cover is fantastic flowers in goofy 70s colors… throughout the book, I used colored pencil to draw FLOWERS- you remember the daisies with the round centers and the half-heart shaped leaves?… My therapist loved this fact, as here was this deep, emotional, adult subject on the pages, but illustrated with happy and almost smiley flowers. The contrast is amazing, and oh so ME- the “Eternal Optimist”.)

I wrote an introduction explaining that I “went through a rough time when my parents got divorced,” and, “I hope you enjoy as well as learn from it.” The book was comprised of an introduction, two chapters and a conclusion. The main point of the book was that kids shouldn’t feel like it’s their fault. I explained that my parents got divorced when I was only three, and that it was hard to understand. I wrote, “At the time I didn’t understand what a ‘divorce’ was. All I knew was my dad was not living with us anymore. I didn’t know where he went or why.”  I told the readers that sometimes parents don’t love each other anymore, or maybe they fight too much over ‘stupid little things.” I said that sometimes parents need to see a marriage counselor, but sometimes that doesn’t even help.  I went on to explain my family’s scenario, and that we had visits with my dad, but that he wasn’t living with us anymore. I am struck by my own candor-that even as a little kid I had some poignant thoughts about this very serious-very adult subject.

I described the pain I felt, “Inside I felt like a different person, I really looked the same. The reason that I felt different was because my parents weren’t together anymore.”  Wow. Isn’t that the truth- that when something really awful happens to you, you look the same, but you feel terribly different- or wrong-on the inside? I am surprised by my clarity on this subject. I continued discussing the emotions. I wrote, “I had a really hard time figuring out what was going to happen to me. My emotions were all mixed up.”

Finally, I stated that kids shouldn’t have to take the responsibility of divorce. I told kids that they aren’t being punished by their parents breaking up. They shouldn’t feel responsible. I ended by trying to tell them that this scenario isn’t what we’d choose as kids, but it’s not their fault.  I said, “Kids whose parents are divorced know that their lives are going to change a lot. They have to remember that is will take time to adapt to this big change in their lives. In the long run, things will work out for the best.” I am, after all an eternal optimist, no? The final line of the book reads, “So I hope this book has helped you a little! Think about the things I said!” What a hoot!

I want to publish this book. I think it would be helpful to write an introduction explaining the context, and the fact that it was written by me as a 10 year old. The message for kids is, in my opinion, timeless. Kids can benefit from it.  I think there are audiences for it-there are an awful lot of 40-somethings out there who have lived this scene. We are adults now, some married, some divorced, but every one of us has been affected by divorce in some way.  My kids know the same number of kids whose parents are married, as those with divorced parents. I am not yet sure if it should be a children’s book, or one that is aimed at adults, or some kind of combination of both. If I do publish it, I would like to print it AS IS- in all of its 70s flowered glory. The typewriter font and my happy flowers really set the tone and context.

In retrospect, I think I was searching for meaning. I suspect that while I didn’t know any other children of divorce, I knew there had to be more in the world. I knew that if I could help another kid, then my suffering might give rise to meaning. Just as people share their experiences when suffering from illness, or survivors of tragedy want to help others by recounting their story, I must have wanted to find meaning in my pain. Maybe by expressing it, I would help another child to not feel as alone as I evidently did, and it would give meaning to my pain.  I am now 42 years old, happily married with three wonderful children of my own. I read it to them, explaining the background of why I wrote it. My oldest, 13 cried a little when I read it aloud to them, feeling empathetic to my pain.  My son, 10, (the same age I was when I wrote it!) ‘Thought it was cool’ since I wrote it when I was his age, and said he ‘was surprised that he could understand how I felt since I was his age when I wrote it.’ Martha, the youngest, 7, said, “You know Mommy, I just don’t get it. I am sorry, but I don’t understand it.” I sobbed when I looked into her big inquisitive brown eyes. I hugged her tightly and said, “You know Martha, I hope you never have to understand it.” How completely cool is that?!

It has begun.

So there is no doubt about it...at this point it is full steam ahead with taking the LSAT and applying to law school. Wow. What a decision that has been! Actually, the actual decision was pretty easy-it was the steps leading up to it that were slow and calculated. Where I live, there are only two law school options. I visited both, because I was, afterall, turning over stones, right? I will ultimately apply to both, but I suspect one will be much more difficult to get into. I learned that both schools are getting over 4,000 applicants, accepting around 1,000 (this number could be way off, I really don't remember), and then having about 150-200 actually matriculate. Wow, those numbers are daunting. Its a formidable challenge.

As I guided my minivan into the law school parking lot, I took a deep breath. I was much more nervous than I thought I would be. I didn't think anyone would be judging me, and I wasn't worried about being embarassed or anything, it was just the shear sense of doing something. I was finally doing something - something for me. On top of that, I have been talking about doing this (in various forms) since I was 6 years old. Today was the day! I walked up to the admisions building and tugged on the oversized handles. It seemed like they were HUGE for affect. I pulled open the doors, and as I walked over the threshold, I felt different. I had done it. I had taken the step toward something big. Whether or not I will get in, or even decide to actually attend, are decisions for the future. For now, I had entered. It had begun.

One, a tier three school, is very close to my home and near where my kids go to school. This would involve a five minute commute. No kidding. The class I sat in on was a Contracts class, a first-year-everyone-takes-it kind of class. I had looked up the professor, because that's the kind of chick I am, and found that he had graduated college the year after me. So, I wouldn't necessarily be the oldest person in the room. The best part about sitting in on the class was that I didn't feel like a complete fish out of water. In seeing real students, doing real work, and getting a 'feel' for what the experience might really be like, I could see myself doing it as well. Yes, the instructor used the Socratic method, but it wasn't to humiliate the student. He was casual in his method; using regular discussion techniques, with which I was accustomed. No horror here. I followed along with what they were doing quite well. Whew! Funny, in that he was describing three definitions regarding landlord-tenant relationships, and I had first hand experience with all three. That has to count for something. I was comfortable and relaxed at the school. Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to oversimplify the experience. It will be significantly challenging, no doubt about that, but I had a feeling that they weren't speaking another unknown language. Wow, maybe I can do this afterall, I thought.

So the very next day, I visited my other local option. This school is one in which I would not have probably gotten into had I applied 20 years ago. This is a tier two school, one which is trying to boost itself into the 'big 10.' I was enamoured by the pretty campus, the ivy buildings, and the fact that it exists on an undergraduate campus. The building is brand new with technology that will knock your socks off. It was really what you imagine law school to be like. The class I audited, Torts, was larger, and more formal. The students seemed friendly, and in fact, several actually stopped me to talk. During the discussion, the professor was talking about product liability, and when a cost outweighs the ethical need to make a change in a corporate scenario. He placed a memo on the screen from the Ford Motor Company from the late 1970s. I laughed out loud, which seemed really inappropriate. He spoke about the trouble Ford got into with the Pinto. I was giggling to myself as I not only knew about the Pinto, it was my first car! I wondered if anyone in the room (inclusive of all 80 students) had ever even ridden in a Pinto, much less owned one! It struck me again, that maybe some of my life experiences might actually help in learning and ultimately praticing law. The instructor sat with me for almost 15 minutes after the class. I felt comfortable, but a little bit out of range at this school. Attending this school would be more of an academic reach for me, as well as it is 30 minutes from home. I know this distance is doable, but when you subtract the 10 hours a week for driving, it really does stack up- time I won't be able to spend studying.

One thing that struck me about both classes, which I would not have forseen, is that every single student had a laptop. Ok, you are thinking, uh, no kidding, Carol, (I am using one right now). The funny part was that once the professor (in both classes) began speaking, the students were pecking away at their computer pads and therefore not looking at the teacher. This was odd to me, in that usually the instructor gets clues to the discussion, or at the very least uses the students' eye contact or furrowed brows to indicate or change the flow of the lesson. This was a new phenonmenon for me, a change in the classroom dynamic. I used a typewriter in college. Settle down, it was an electric typewriter- sheese I am not THAT old!

So who knows what will come of this? I have enrolled to take the LSAT in December. I began an online live LSAT prep class. Its really hard. I think there is a hole in my brain where the so-called 'logic games' knowledge should be. I hope the course will help me attack these. I rock at the reading comprehension questions, do so-so on the 'regular logic', but suck on the logic games. These are the ones like this: Joe gets on the bus and can't sit next to Sally but has to sit next to Susie and only rides on Wednesdays... ack! I am told there is a method for attacking these, so we'll see. I am already seeing an improvement-its amazing what doing 25 hours of preparation in a week can begin to do for you (yes, did you detect my sarcasm there?) ... so we'll see. I just plan to pour myself into it, and do my very best, whatever that may be.

The online live class is cool. The company sent me texts and headphones. I log into the class, which takes place at a certain time. The instructor talks, we can hear him, and then we use emoticons to answer questions. There is also a chat room (I knew my fast chat room typing skill would come in handy for SOMEthing!) where you can ask and answer questions. Its really cool. After the class, the transcript is available online to review or to sit through if you miss a class. So far its working out great. The instructors keep saying it will get easier, I sure hope they are correct. Right now it takes an unbelievable amount of time to work through the problems. It is very tedious and strenuous. We'll see. I am trying to keep a postitve outlook and know that this is just another step in the process to doing what I want to do. One evening, the instructor said (and yes this is an actual quote), "Once you see the answers, its easy to pick the correct one." I just laughed and laughed, gee thanks Jason, I hope that rubs off on me, and sooner than later, please. Ha ha (By the way, I suspect that he meant that the wrong answers would become much more evident the more experience and practice we have with the exam questions. I just thought it was hilarious. Its like thinking Alex Trebeck is really smart- well, yeah he can READ the answers!)

So while this blog entry isn't full of insights, it illustrates the beginning. I have moved forward and have begun the tasks at hand. It feels liberating, and scary and tiring and exciting all at once. My family is being really cool and helping out alot. That helps tremendously. Oh, silly story... Sam (10 yr old) said to me the other day, "Mom, so if you go to law school, are you going to go to Temple?" To which I replied, "Uh, Sam, where is Temple?," He said, "Philly." I said, "Where do we live?" He said, "Harrisburg." So I said, "Sam, how would that work?" He said, "You could get an apartment and we could visit you." It cracked me up. He went on the say that Dad could take him to school and feed them and take care of the stuff I do. It was incredibly cute. On the one hand, I was like Oh thanks Sam, like I am so replaceable, on the other hand I thought it was cool that he would think that I could/should do something for myself. Maybe in a small way, it was his vote of confidence. We'll see, it will be a long road, whichever one I take.

Thanks for sharing this experience with me.

"C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E", no I am not singing it, just making one

On Friday night we set out to have a campfire on the back porch. It was the first of the brisk evenings to come, as we each needed a sweatshirt to remain comfortable. We snuggled with blankets too, but that was really just for effect. Bob always lights the fires, I suppose it's a guy thing; like the grill firing & taking out the trash. It was an unusual situation, as Bob couldn't get it to catch. Hmmm, that's odd...it always comes easily for him. He left to go pick up Ellie at a friends' house, so I, not wanting to sit idly looking at unlit logs and feeling the newfound chill in the air, decided to try my hand at fire building. I know how to do it, leaving space between the logs, tucking in the kindling, and wadding up what little newspaper I could scrounge up underneath for good measure. The two younger kids were doubting me. Although neither of them verbalized it, they knew this was Dad's business. So a light here, a flicker there and to all of our amazement- it lit! Within minutes, we had a spectacular fire ablaze. I was noticeably pleased with myself. Sam, as if sensing my near smug sentiment, said,"Wow Mom, that's a pretty good fire. You just did something better than Dad!" I will downplay his utter astonishment here, so as not to belabor the point. You get the idea. I was oddly pleased with my accomplishment.

The fire did really well that evening, but you probably figured that I was bound to say that.
　

As I unwrapped my legs from the plush blanket in which they were wrapped, I carefully placed my wine glass on the ledge so as to not waste any of the precious potion it contained. I rose to stoke the fire. I poked and prodded. I shoved it and tossed the warm embers over the part of the log that had to yet to be ignited. Another part of the dingy log crumbled in pieces as it simmered. I carefully placed a fresh log at an unusual angle, calculating the best opportunity for it's position in my new project. It was divine.

At that moment it occurred to me that this fire is like a marriage. It starts out hot and quick. You crowd it, maybe even get too close because you can't soak up enough of it's warmth. You think it's going to blaze like that always. You feel the heat and although it's intoxicating, sometimes you have to step back to feel the cool air again. You know that you need it and it needs you. It's pretty stable and reliable after it settles. The paper and kindling are gone now, and the quick hot flash has stabilized. At this point, it can sustain itself using it's own devices. You begin to relax as you are now accustomed to the even and mesmerizing flame. But if you continue to sit back and you don't stoke it and tend it, the fire will flicker and maybe even extinguish. So you push the deep warm coals which have settled to the bottom a bit and you recognize their importance. If you push them, they will turn reddish and might even have the strength to light a new log that you have carefully positioned on top. After tending the magnificent creation, you return to your seat and bask in it's glory.

I hope to make some time to write about my experiences last week while visiting the two local law schools. Thanks for reading!
　

Law school at my age...? Really?!

Hard to believe that tomorrow I will take a tiny step toward deciding if law school is in fact in my future. I have an appointment to visit a first year class at Widener Law School and then take a tour of the campus. Yikes! Ought to be a short tour, as I think there are only about well, two buildings! That is ok, as I am most looking to get a feel for the class. I need to ask myself if I can actually do this. Is it finally the right time to pursue something I have wanted to do since I was 6 years old? In second grade I wanted to be the Attorney General of the United States. Pretty funny, really, because it was the 70s, so I probably heard that title in the news, with Watergate and all the other government stuff that was happening at the time. I didn't know much back then about the job, other than they "prosecute federal cases," which I suppose is a mouthful for a 7 year old. At any rate, my desire for a legal career waxed and waned over time. I remember my high school debate class with Mrs. Franchois at C.B.West. That class was probably as difficult as any course of my first two years of undergraduate-she was relentless. I did learn so much about debate, how to prepare, how to think on my feet, as well as weird stuff like Roberts Rules of Order, which I never, ever thought would apply to my life. (I was wrong about that, by the way.) What I remember most about that class is the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when it was my turn, not in a nervous holy crap kind of way, but in a wow its my turn and I am on now kind of way. I enjoyed the challenge of the quick pull out the card I remember a fact on that, and being able to (usually) pull it together to make a rebuttal work. I learned in that class that I could perform under pressure and speak passionately even if the opinion wasn't in alignment with mine, but the facts supported the point. I suppose she is one of those teachers I ought to look up and thank, as that class most definitely shaped my future in many ways.

I can't say I regret not going to law school as a 25 year old, as obviously my life would have turned out differently if I had done it then, and I have a pretty great life now as a 42 year old, as trite as that sounds. I am an intense person who is hard to stop once I become passionate about something, so I feel like if it is finally the right time, (oh and don't forget the minor point of actually getting in!), then I think I can do it. I have to know it is the right time as it will change our family lifestyle if the answer is yes to begin pursuing it. I recognize that a lot of the busy work that I do now will have to end. I think I am cool with most of that, as much of it is stuff I have been trying to ditch for a long time, but either didn't have the heart to, or didn't know how to. I hope that I am not just looking for something more important to say to people when I tell them no... I mean  now I just say, "Uh, no I can't do that." Long pause. Then after they ask again, I repeat, "Nope, not gonna do it." (insert Larry the Cucumber voice here. If you don't know who he is, Google him.)* If I was going to law school, I could say to people, "Nope, not going to do that. I am going to law school." Sounds alot more important than, "I can't help you because I have a date with my dirty laundry...," but don't worry, I know that isn't a good enough reason to go to law school- it has to be for me. I can't do this for anyone else but me. That is a new thing, the just  for me part, as my life decisions have focused nearly entirely on our family for the past 15 or so years. Doing something for me... hmmmm... I like how that sounds.

Good news too, when I looked over the course descriptions listing for the law school, I was wowed over about 75 % of the classes. The ones I didn't get excited about were taxes, estate planning, wills, and that sort of stuff. I have always gotten excited about Constitutional law, which was one of my most favorite (and most challenging) classes at Temple University as an undergrad. I remember just being enthralled by the decisions and the discussions were the kind I always imagined would take place at college. It was a tremendous amount of reading and writing, but I remember loving it. That's got to be a good thing.

Finally, I need to assess if I want to be a lawyer. Is this a means to an end for me? I am sure there will be value in the learning, but its going to take a lot of perseverance and fortitude to get through it. Do I want the job of being a lawyer, as in do I want to perform the day to day? While certainly a competitive person, I don't see myself at this stage in my life competing with fellow students (read: 20-somethings!) for a high powered corporate attorney position. I see myself in some capacity working essentially for myself. The nine-to-five do what someone tells me to gig would be really hard to go back to at this point. So, the idea of doing this in my way, on my terms, is alluring. I am not sure how realistic that is; I guess I do need more research. If the job I really want is say, a politician (just an example- I know, what a stretch, huh?!), then law school might not be a necessary path to take. I need to make sure I cover those bases before I make the decision of whether or not to go.

One thing is certain: I want to actually make the decision. I don't want to have my inactivity be the decision. I don't want to wake up in 5 years and ask myself why I didn't do this years before. I want to make sure its the right thing at the right time, and I need to know that I turned over the necessary stones to know I actually decided, even if I ultimately decide that its not for me. Tomorrow I will begin the job of turning the first stone.

* Ok, my confession: Those who know me personally know that this is well, sort of bullshit. I rarely say no when asked to do things. I think this is a bit of fantasy on my part- that I would say that if I could. I do like the idea of using Larry's voice to tell people NO. It would certainly divert the attention away from me, since he is a talking cucumber and all. Indulge me a bit on this fantasy thing, it is, afterall, my blog, right?

what is this blog about anyway...?

In trying to figure out how to go about this blog business, I have decided to just have at it. Friends who read blogs told me I should blog, that I would love it and others would love to read my stuff. I continued to hesitate. I wondered (like most people I suppose) who would care about what I have to say or what I think...?  This recently reminded me of a conversation I had several years ago with Patriot News Editor, Nancy Eshelman, who was my instructor at a graduate Journalism class. At the end of the News Writing class, she asked me to become a 'stringer' and write feature pieces for the local newspaper. I was stunned- who would care what I have to say? Why would anyone read my opinion? She replied by saying that all feature columnists start out feeling that way, but after some writing, people start to comment and it just goes from there. She told me that I was an interesting story teller- people liked to listen to me- and that I had a gift for writing. I was flattered and loved the challenge to try something new. I did have one story published, and stopped after that, as I was quite pregnant with my first child and unfortunately, sick. I had forgotten about this conversation until recently. While on the beach reading the book, The Girls from Ames, I realized that I could have written a similar book about the long-standing relationships that have been a part of my life, as well as those which have come and gone. I have learned so much over the past few years using, of all things, Facebook, as I have delved into a whole new culture of friendships that have had a rebirth as a result of that social media. I think I have several chapters of that book mapped in my mind. More on that later.

Why writing? I started writing notes to myself in June of 2009 when it hit me (like the proverbial ton of bricks!) that I was having some personal issues with the direction my life was heading. Only adding to these journalesque writings, I never delete or edit what I have written, as it has served as a slice of how I felt at the time. Much of it written in the stream of consciousness style, to date, I have almost 200 pages in Word, which have only been shared with my therapist. Some others close to me have read certain excerpts, but mainly its quite private. This cathartic experience has documented my feelings over the past year or so, good and bad. Don't worry, I won't be sharing that, and I certainly wouldn't publish it in its current un-edited state. I have learned through this experience, however, that writing is a terrific way for me to work through all kinds of issues. My therapist says I am 'prolific'- I think that might be a nice way of saying long-winded. I think I like writing almost as much as talking...

At any rate, I found myself thinking more about writing a book I have been thinking about for many years. I never really thought I would actually write it, as I thought that non-fiction books had to glean something... there had to be some expert view or something for it to teach others, so I didn't think my ideas fit the bill. In speaking with many people over the past year, however, I have learned that this is not the case, that perhaps the journey and (maybe more importantly) knowing you are not alone on this journey is a worthwhile endeavor to share. Whether or not these thoughts will ever make it into a book format remains to be seen. I hope to expound on these topics in this forum as possible.

So here is kind of an introduction. I currently plan to write about the 'transition' in which I have found myself. This is the jouney that I mentioned above. I have been working through where I am now- my kids no longer need me to stay alive- but need me in other new ways. I have been searching for meaning outside the world I have created in my current network of family and friends. Maybe its a mid-life crisis plain and simple, I don't know for sure. Anyhow, I have been on a journey and hope to shed some light on this as I have found so many others who can relate to these issues as our lives have turned a new corner. This is not just about women either, by the way. Men, as husbands or as Dads are going through transitions in this early 40s stage, although I have read that their midlife crises tend to hit more in the mid 50s... I bet you can benefit from these discussions whether you are a man or a woman. I hope so.

Finally, (I know, no way!) I am new to the whole blog scene. I don't want to filter myself so much that I lose that genuine sense of myself, but I don't want to upset or hurt anyone inadvertantly either. That is not what this is about. I will also try not to swear, which is really hard for me. I write like I talk, so be prepared for that... I hope its enjoyable for us both. Thanks for reading. :)

the very first one

Ok, so after much thought and deliberation, it has begun. I have been told by friends that I should be blogging. I actually created this tonite, by accident. I was reading an old friend's blog and found myself creating this. It will be more interesting in the future. Tonite is about getting this to show up and actually be visible. Content will come later... so, welcome to my blog. Bah ha ha.