"At Last..."

One of the most complicated relationships I have ever been in is the one I’m having with myself. It is demanding, neurotic, complicated and downright exhausting. On the other hand, it is satisfying, stimulating, interesting and considerate. If I were an outsider I would be telling myself to dump the bastard but only on the condition if I am unhappy. If on the other hand, I am happy then it might be a match made in heaven and I should throw myself into it with the gusto of a skydiver hoping against hope that the chute opens up at that most eminent moment.

Lately, I have been feeling less than secure about myself. Not having a job does things to a person like make them question their worth. Although I am infinitely happier to be away from that toxic environment I used to clock in and out of for the past five years, I am also not the type of person who can simply meander around her home watching television while eating ice cream out of the carton. I thought cleaning the house from top to bottom would help alleviate some of the pressures and guilt of being unemployed, but after all the dusting, mopping, scrubbing and sweeping I felt no more satisfied than I did when I cleaned and had a job. Sure, I finally got around to finishing the flooring and the newly reorganized closets have never looked better, but one thing I have learned is that even if I clean every second of every day there will be more dishes to wash tomorrow, there will be more laundry to do when the weekend comes around and let’s face it, living with two men means “messy” follows them around like groupies on rock stars.

The more I cleaned the more I realized that the shinier my windows were, the duller my self esteem became. Even though there was a tiny flicker of satisfaction when I finally rounded up the dust bunnies under the bed, there was still something missing. I did not know what it was until I woke up one morning after experiencing a restless and sleepless night because I had rearranged the bedroom; no amount of shifting furniture or wiping floors was going to satisfy the need for challenge raging inside of me. I had been subconsciously rearranging myself into something I am not and neglecting what I truly am, a self-employed writer; a strong independent young woman who thinks beyond how clean her home is. I was restless because I had been too busy cleaning that in the process I forgot to air myself out.

There will always be dishes to wash and there will always be laundry to do, but that moment an idea for a chapter pops into my head will be gone forever if I sacrifice it for scrubbing the toilette. I finally have what I always wanted, the ability to stay home and actually work on what I love best, my novels. There will be other jobs, there will be other chores, but I may never have this time to myself again. After all, that is the part I love best about me, the confidant person who thinks for herself and has the ability to make the best out of life even at its most sour.


I think I’ll take myself out on a date this weekend just so that I might be reminded of how lucky I am to have found someone who truly understands what it takes to have the military discipline of finishing a chapter as well as the interior designer ability of reorganizing a walk-in closet…. This, my friends, could very well be a match made in heaven.

	Etta James - At Last .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

"Writing is the only thing that when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else."
— Gloria Steinem