(This piece was in response to a writing prompt from the workshop, “Creative Aging: Re-Imagining Your Life.” Participants were asked the simple question: Who were you and who are you now?)
I WAS as skinny, shy child, a dreamer. I was a would-be artist, and according to my early teachers, I was a poor reader. Thus labeled, I feared failure.
I AM a reserved adult, not shy, but quiet and observant. I am an excellent reader. I read for information and for relaxation and maybe sometimes for escape. I have taken many university classes, and although not degreed, I believe that my education may be a “little north of average.”
I WAS a motherless child, one of “too many” children . . . number twelve. I was a homely child in hand-me-down clothes. I wanted a mother to take care of me. I wanted birthday cakes, new clothes and friends. I wanted more.
I AM a wife, but not a mother. I am a sister and an excessive worrier . . . fretting because my five remaining siblings all have major health problems.
I WAS a young person, who never knew what I wanted to do when I grew up. I had some vague ideas about being an artist or a teacher, but could not figure out how to accomplish either while supporting myself. I was an outsider, an underachiever, a dreamer. I tried hard to please people.
I WAS a rule follower, a conformist. I had no opinions of my own. I was unsure of myself. I usually assumed that other people knew better than I did how things should be done. I could be pushed into doing things I didn’t want to do . . . and things that I clearly knew better than doing.
I AM retired from the many different jobs I managed to get over the years. I am opinionated. I am not as nice as I used to be . . . but nice enough.
I AM an artist when I want to be . . . for fun, not for profit. I am a writer, when I want to be . . . for my own pleasure, not to be published. I have sold paintings and had poems published. With few exceptions, I’m not concerned whether others see me, or my work, as a failure or a success. I finally realize there is more than one way to do almost everything, and sometimes my way is best. (Still, I can be unsure of myself.) I am trying to accept things the way they are. When stressed, I try to remember to live in the moment. I believe I am where I need to be. I have enough.
Mary Prior writes for the pure enjoyment of the creative process. She loves to play with rhymes and experiment with free and open verse. Mary has taken university level classes and workshops in writing and has enjoyed being on newspaper staffs at college and in industry. Currently, she is writing short, personal essays about her early life experiences.
With pen in hand, ask yourself the question: Who were you and who are you now? You might be surprised what you discover when you start writing.
Do you have a personal essay or a poem on aging you'd like to share? If so, I'd love to read it. Send it my way!
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