Finding MY Voice

photo credit: morguefile.com

I cannot seem to please people lately. I constantly fall short. The strange thing is that I honestly don’t care. There was a time when I would have pretended to care; a time when I would have made an attempt at chagrin or taken a stab at apologetic. Not anymore.

My newfound breeziness may be a result of something as simple as the maturity that comes with age, but I don’t think so. I’ve been “mature” for a good while now. No. It’s definitely something else.

It could be plain old ennui or my old friend stubbornness, except that these characteristics generally result in feelings that I would never describe as “breezy” and usually lead me down entirely different, less positive, paths — paths with street names like “Screw You! Lane” and “Get Outta My Face! Boulevard”. I won’t lie — there is a certain satisfaction in roads that end in these locations, it’s just not where I find myself at present.

I’m no psychologist, but I think it’s safe to say that I can attribute my current “zeitgeist” to two things. One being the “hovel purge”, the other being writing this blog.

The whole “out with the old and in with the new” attitude that the hovel purge has engendered is incredibly liberating. Sorting, tossing, reorganizing, and, yes, “prettying up”, our living space has been an arduous, expensive, and time-consuming task, but one that has left me incredibly satisfied. I’ve learned that some things are worth holding on to as they are, that a few things can be given new life with something as simple as a can of paint, and that others, regardless of my emotional attachment to them, simply need to be set free.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that those same activities — sorting, tossing, reorganizing, and “prettying up” can be applied to writing, as well as to redecorating. It’s not accidental that my writing has become more substantive since embarking upon my household reorganization project. I have come to the conclusion that some ideas, like side tables, should be let loose. Ridding myself of the detritus, both physical and mental, has been very therapeutic.

My foray into redecorating has resulted in some success — I’m particularly keen on the little vanity bench that I reupholstered. And the “faux window seat”? Awesome. I’ve had some failures — alas, the painted cocktail table will have to go. That’s what life’s about though, isn’t it? Finding what works?

In terms of the writing, I’ve found some things that work. I’m discovering my voice. I’ve crafted some pieces that I am proud to have written and, frankly, stunned that I was able to produce. Discovering my voice has made me brave and strong and confident — braver than I ever dreamed I could be, stronger than I knew I was, more confident than I have ever been.

My decorating sensibilities, my writing style, my approach to inter-personal relationships — they’re not for everybody. They are uniquely me. For the first time in my life, I’m absolutely fine with that.

For anyone who is interested, these posts are all related to the “hovel purge”!:
Alas! We’re Not Those Sort of People!
What Passes For Normal On An Ordinary Saturday
Here’s To Hoping For the Best!
Things That Are Worth Holding On To
Trading One Addiction For Another.
Mother of the Year.
My Husband Is Much Nicer Than His Wife.
What Fang Doesn’t Know: I Was a Pre-School Tracing Prodigy!
My “Relaxing” Weekend Off!
Miss Marge’s One-Armed Vanity Chair Redo