It never occurred to me in earlier years that when I stopped being this or that for a career that I would wonder around trying to find myself.  Definitely not in later years.  Yet each day even though I feel in myself that I have always been a writer, I am no longer making an income from that.  I simply write in my journal each morning, occasionally ramble on with these blogs and each day think I will continue on the work of the books that I have begun.  One finished that needs a rewrite.

Still I have no identity.  Not really.  No one seeks my advice or thinks I know much any longer.  I guess it comes with age especially in the USA where the older people are less then desirable.  Their knowledge considered outdated although some of us are quite with it in our thinking and still with solid ideas.

So it is now with the same thought one has in youth of what do I want to be when I grow up, I am now having the same thought of what do I want to be now that I am not a professional in the world.  There are dreams of course and things to do that remain undone.  Those things that one puts on a bucket list, in my case a basket list because I am more of a wicker person then a metal one…all the complications of the weave suit me better.

And then there are the names.  Having been married twice and as society had it at my age, I changed my name.  Giving up my identity and adjusting to another.  I no longer identify with either name and in someways do not identify with the born name either.  So a bit of a identity crisis which is laughable if one gives much thought to the dynamics.  I write under one name, paint under another.  Write checks and live under the name that the government feels is mine even though I long ago felt differently.

So I am a mess with my identity.  I look in the mirror somewhat recognize the older face although inside still think I am 25 as I suppose everyone does.  Sometimes I feel it is the effects of the antique mirror in my bath that is affecting the visual identity.  Still it is deeper then that.  I read books about this very subject and know it is a common thread that many of us feel in older years especially when we have worked our entire lives.  Who are we really.  Without the title, the suit, the pumps.  Who am I.   Where do I find me with out those trappings.

It is a journey and one I am determine to enjoy.  Determine to find who I am on the path somewhere.  It may mean a change of direction.  It may mean a change in name which only women can really do…dropping all those husbands behind.  It may mean just being.  Whatever it means I will follow the flow and maybe someone will nudge me telling me who they believe I am.  Perhaps they will be right.

So for now I will leave the harbor to catch the wind….

About annamayfair

Enthusiastically interested in life, well being and art...writer by desire and dream, artist by the soul....friend to animals.
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