The Invisible Woman

As I transitioned from full-time mother to full-time housewife and artist, I expected change.  The one thing I did not expect was the eye opening realization at just how invisible I have become and the need to fix this "nothing" that I have allowed myself to become.

My epiphany occured last week when I happened to have the television on just to hear voices other than mine, and Katie Couric's show started.  Working in the library, I could hear the topic from a distance, something about the value of female friendships.  It caught my attention, so I went to the family room to watch and listen for a bit.  Author Shasta Nelson appeared on the program, talking about her book and her web site that focuses on creating a meaningful circle of girlfriends.  As I half listened for a while, I started running through the mental list of my close friends.  I couldn't even fill one hand in the count.  Then I started thinking about the towns and cities I've lived in for the past 35 years and realized that it was the same story in each one - I had maybe one close friend at a time and, even then, I think I'm being generous when I describe the friendships as "close."  The exception was when I worked at a graduate school and many of the students working in my office were my peers and we really hit it off.  Those friendships lasted for as long as we lived in the same town.  Does that even count?  My oldest and most long-term friendship is coming to a very sad end, and it is overwhelmingly sad for me.

Wallowing in this increasing emotional downhill slide, I went to Shasta's website girlfriendcircles.com where I read every part of the site from top to bottom and took advantage of the free guest sign up.  In the process of signing up, there was a questionnaire about me, the point of which is to match up personalities for these small "group dates" of women in my area that are also seeking friendships.  Oh my gosh, I am so boring on paper!  In reality, I'm quite the talkative comic in a group.  But when it came to answering questions about what kind of outdoor activities I enjoy or what activities I enjoy doing in my spare time, I realized I have just fallen into the habit of doing very little.  I sort of exist in each day, waiting for the next day, and doing it alone until someone comes home from work or school.  I've allowed myself to slowly disappear, not going anywhere or doing anything unless someone else (almost always my overworked husband) has the time, energy or interest to do something.  Do I really just go to two quilt shows and a few nights at the comedy club a year?  That's it, other than one of his work-related parties or dinner with one of his co-workers or subordinates?  What has happened to me?  On paper, I look like I'm barely conscious, much less fun company.  When I get in a group, my husband teases that I AM the party and I have a blast.  It's getting there that just isn't happening.  Ugh.

I see this disappearing act happening in my artwork as well.  As I've fussed about ad nauseum, I am just dragging myself through the doll furniture painting project.  This does not look like me, but I'm having a hard time figuring out "me."  My identity has just been loss and I have to stop being so afraid to find it again.  Too much of what I do, or don't do, is driven by fear.  There's the fear of failure at the top of the list, failing at being able to maintain a friendship, failure when it comes to sharing art.  I would certainly never advise a friend to just sit in their house alone and live with it, but that's what I'm doing.  I have allowed the fear of failure to stop me dead in my tracks.  I don't want that fear of failure to stop me from making art, from making friends or from finding out who I am as an individual. 

Now what?  I really have my work cut out for me.

Loneliness Stinks

Three and half years have passed since I left a fabulous job at the hospital to be a stay-at-home mom and artist.  In that time, I've done too little.  Worse, I've lost nearly all human contact and, for whatever reason, am really struggling with that issue this week.  The holidays are always fun in our home, though sparsely attended.  Usually the table is set for just my husband and, if I'm lucky, both of my kids are present and accounted for.  We play goofy board games, watch seasonal movies and just have a lot of fun goofing off.  Last year I turned 50 and that meant a MOB at the table, with family flying in from all corners of the country.  What fun!  But my in-laws live hundreds of miles and many states away, and my sister lives across the country and the economic environment has put quite the damper on travel for everyone.  Sigh.

So what do I do?  I feel like I did in high school.  Frequently the new kid (many times as I was a military brat), I would watch clusters of friends that had known each other for years, and I just couldn't seem to wiggle my way into the crowd.  What would it have been like to go to school with the same kids for more than three years?  I'm very outgoing and have a lot of fun talking with people, so it isn't a matter of being shy.  My husband's staff insist that I, "the party," am included in their office lunches so that they spend the hour (plus) goofing and laughing, so it's not that I'm dull.  And contrary to the tone of my blog, my spill-my-guts place, I'm quite the goof in person.  So what is it?!?  I just always feel like the odd girl out.  I have no artsy or craftsy friends locally, as I've fussed about before.  They've got to be out there somewhere.  I'm losing my sanity being alone so much, holding full-fledged conversations with cats.  THAT is the true sign of insanity.

While I've joked about placing an advertisement in the "Want" ads for artsy friends, there's a part of me that is thinking there's got to be a way to do such a thing.  Where do I begin?

Here kitty, kitty, kitty.  I need a chat.