Four years ago (ouch!) I wrote about being 40, and still becoming who I am. You can read it here https://threesaherd.com/2010/01/06/becoming/ One of the things I wrote I was becoming was a runner. Now, four years later, I actually call myself a runner. For years, I would never have said that about myself, even at the point of running 10+ miles a week. I would say, “I’m not a real runner, I just run for exercise, and not very far.” Denial, denial, denial. But now, now I own it. I am a runner. It only took four years and four half marathons, along with realizing I obsess about shoes, foam rollers, IT band pain, running socks, tights vs shorts, and the color tech shirt I’m going to wear on race day. I AM A RUNNER!
Funny thing about life…it seems we are always becoming. Life is a process. I guess I still thought that by my mid-forties (YIKES!) I would be. Yeah, not so much. Four years after my last becoming post, I am still a work in progress. I still don’t know what I’m going to be when I grow up. I’m working on it. For the past year, I made my blog a focus. We took it public to test the waters, see if there would be any interest in what I had to say. Yesterday, I went over 100 followers. THANK YOU!! I was giddy when that notification popped up on my phone. What an amazing feeling. I write mostly as my own form of therapy. That anyone finds any comfort in it, or is interested in my words, makes me speechless.
I still wouldn’t call myself a writer. When anyone says I am a writer, I respond the way I used to when people said I was a runner. I shyly shake my head…”No, not yet. I’m not a writer yet.” I still consider myself in the process of becoming a writer. It hit me last night, I’m no longer becoming, I am. I’m going to own that, and I’m going to keep working at it. For now, my writing is confined to this blog. And there’s no financial benefit involved. That is my next step. Whenever we talk about what I’m going to “do” when the kids are grown and gone, I get twitchy. I have absolutely no desire to work in an office again. I don’t want to have to deal with people (12 years as a claim representative and four years in retail turns one off to any type of customer interaction). I dread talking on the phone. I love my quiet corner of the kitchen where my computer sits, with pictures of my babies surrounding me, my yoga or running clothes on, the Today Show playing in the background. This is my happy place. If I can be the writer I want to be, one of my dreams will be a reality.
I’ve become a writer of sorts. I’m working on becoming a real writer – one who won’t shake her head in embarrassment when someone else calls me a writer.