Looking Forward

New year, not a new me. After this many years of counseling, I know better. All I can do is work on bringing forth the better aspects of me. That is my goal forever, not just for this year.

Some of the tasks I want to accomplish this year include beginning again with my art. I used to draw, I was moderately good at painting, I played a mean clarinet, and I’m a wicked good seamstress, and over the years it all drifted away. The past couple of years have seen me buying the supplies to begin all of those again. I made a shirt this year but I don’t like how it fits because the other thing that got away from me is my weight and strength, so they are on the list, too. This will be me resolving to live every day with the end in mind.

I’ve done it before, lived with a goal in mind, and it turned out well for me. I spent most of my life job hopping and looking for the next big thing that would fix what was wrong, and one day I stumbled on working for a university. I got lucky with the three jobs I’ve had on this campus and got supervisors who weren’t strict martinets on protocol. There are horror stories, and I don’t understand why, but they aren’t mine to deal with. I bought a house 13 years ago in May which stabilized my living expenses and gave me a safe place for my pets, and was way cheaper than renting. I’ve had luck in fixing up the outside in the form of a hailstorm that gave me money for a roof and siding and allowed me to pony up for the windows and doors, I had already put on new gutters and garage door and worked with the town to fix the drainage issues. I put up a fence, and did some work in the kitchen and bathroom, and that’s been it. The rest of the house looks like temporary quarters, but my bank account is happy. Looking back, those 13 years passed in a snap but it didn’t feel like that when I was living them.

I am ready, now, to apply the goal philosophy to the next step in life, and that is enrichment. While I was in the process of becoming secure I lost everything else. Well, to be honest, I never really had it. Too much moving in my childhood meant that I never learned about friends and personal relationships, all I know about love I got from trashy romance novels and my dysfunctional family. I never learned the art of forgiveness, what I learned was that people get one, and only one, chance and when that chance is used up then that’s it. My parents taught me that I was not allowed to say no which put me in a lot of bad situations when I started to branch out. When I finally did get out I would get incredibly angry if I felt that anyone was telling me what to do. I had a weird sort of pride that would pop out when I felt that people were taking advantage of me.

I also didn’t believe that I was any good at my art. Not any good and no one would want it. That’s wrong, btw, I am good. Really good. The problem is that no one wanted it. I didn’t know about all of the work and sacrifice that is involved in art, that it wasn’t just about being good it was about selling yourself and making contacts and putting yourself out there. And practice. And lessons. And history and technique. All things that I need to look into and learn about to make sure that this is what I want. Thank goodness for MOOCs.

I hope to look back a year from now and see progress, including finally playing Auld Lang Syne on that clarinet.