The Fertile Void

what I know about myself is that the farther away I get from my truth the more obsessed I become with trying to control the small stuff- the stuff that shouldn't matter- the stuff they say you won't remember when you are dying- the stuff that we do to keep us from really facing the important stuff

I was always messy. I started one project before putting away the materials of another. I draped my clothes over chairs and beds. I slept in a bed with kitty fur, cookie crumbs and piles of papers.

i was okay with this until one day when i got the idea that external order trumped all else.
Staying busy straightening and cleaning is a way that I have avoided answering the questions that need to be answered.
Stay busy with repetitive chores is a way that I have kept myself in sort of a anesthetized state. repetitive chores give me an artificial sense of rightness about the way in which I am living my life.
And even as I participate in them the truer part of me knows that I am not getting away with anything. All I am doing is filling up time and space, so that I do not have to deal with what writer Suzaane Braun Levine calls "the fertile void"

I have lived a long time. I had a thirty-four year long career. When I left teaching, at first I felt as though I was a kid with a pockerful of nickels in a candy store.




I am borrowing the term "the fertile void" from writer Suzanne Braun Levine. Ms. Levine, a former editor of Ms. magazine has written a couple of books on aging. I read them both and connected with much of what she had to say.

She describes this fertile void as that space in a woman's life when what she has been doing for the majority of her life is finished. In my case, my retirement from thirty-four of classroom teaching brought about many interesting changes- many of which caused me to feel awkward and uncomfortable.

Routines and roles often serve the purpose of providing a woman with a sense of connection, identity and purpose.

I was absolutely clear that I was finished with teaching. I loved my students, and I loved my job. It was absolutely the right career choice for me, but it was time to stop.

for the first few years after leaving my career, I was like a kid with a pockerful of nickels in a candyshop.. I was running here and there. I still spent a large amount of my time making money. I was not in great need of adding to my income, but making money was what I knew to do. It was comfortable, and it took up a lot of my time. This past year I decided to take a year off from making money.

The fertile void is a scary place to hang out. You know that the way in which you are spending your time is not totally satifying, but you are afraid to let your mind wander there too often because then you must face your thoughts.

Like many, I can do a pretty darned good job at playing pretend with myself. But I always know when I am doing this, and after a point the thundering in my ears about the lying I am doing is too much to bear, and I must listen to my gut.

The problem is that I am not sure what it is that I really want to do. I feel like a hen that has been sitting on eggs too long. Nothing has hatched , but I still keep sitting- waiting for for a signal of some sort.

I am also aware that I have allowed myself to be led around by life itself . I wonder how many really conscious choices I have made about the direction of my life. I sometimes think that I have been a person who rather than take the bull by the horn has been one who has lived much of her life in reaction mode.

I admire greatly woman who put themselves really out there. I have many ideas of things I would like to try. but I am not doing any of them yet.

The broken leg deal has not only been physically uncomfortable, but it has forced me to spend hours on end just sitting. I think about what I will do once I can be up and about again.

My greatest fear is that I will keep replaying the same tune. I want more. I need more. I aim to create more.

I am afraid.