This isn’t what I expected
by Elouise
I wrote the free-verse poem below last night after writing a long journal entry about the current state of my life. The poem is an open letter to my Creator. An attempt to lay it out just as it is, given unexpected health events of the last few years that seem to have hemmed me in.
This isn’t what I expected
This endless run of days and nights
Wondering why this and not that
Retirement was a golden orb
A sparkling promise that kept me going
Until I couldn’t go any longer
There’s so much to love about it
That it feels like betrayal to say this:
I don’t feel retired; I feel disappeared.
Disappeared from what’s happening
Disappeared from minds and memories
Disappeared from action, whatever it is today
I wake each morning wondering
What will be the meaning of this day?
What will it add up to when the sun goes down?
Writing is a gift and blessing I gladly receive
Not going to work each day is also a blessing
Until I no longer have any ‘real work’
No need to be somewhere at a certain time
No collaboration about things that make a difference
Or participation in discussion about things that matter
And there’s the rub—this strange reality of just being
Instead of measuring myself by what I do
Or how many people are counting on me to ‘be there’
Is it really enough to take care of this tired old body
With its growing list of limitations and special needs?
Is this the meaning of my life at this time?
Please advise.
Elouise
P.S. to my Dear Readers: I’m grateful beyond words for your presence in my life. Blogging is my lifeline. I can’t imagine the last several years without it. Thank you for being here—many of you from the beginning. I pray you’re finding hope and peace this Advent season, no matter what your current circumstances may be.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 December 2017
Image found at rccbonsecours.com
Telling the Truth 
what a great letter, I can kind of feel a bit of me in this, when I first moved down here not knowing anyone, far from what I’ve always known as home and having to recreate a life. Eight months of idle movement, shopping for something to do, not even buying anything, lots of walks and kayak trips, etc…but after awhile I knew I needed more to feel like me. Working again has brought me back to feeling as if I’m doing something “positive” for me, and I’m finally sleeping fully through the night again (even with the hormone changes taking place). I read a lot of self help, inspirational and found by doing for others, even if making them feel beautiful by getting outfitted in something that looks smashing on them, I go home at night feeling good. So many souls, so many stories, and following yours I realize that so many people go through internal changes/thought processes, and you make me feel not so alone in it all. I am truly Blessed to have you in my circle of friends of the universe. Love and light and kisses and hugs, always, K
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m speechless. But not quite. I love the way you think about your new job — giving you an opportunity to deal with one of our biggest challenges as women–body image and soul happiness. It’s so very difficult–especially in this age of porn and worship of young, ‘picture-perfect’ bodies. What a wonderful comment, Kim. I’m grateful for your presence in my life, and for the woman I am today. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I shall send you a pic of us dressed as elves at the christmas walk in town the other night, I keep looking at it and I could tell everyone I’m the chubby one but trying to keep positive, I got the most comments, sidetracked them all with my sparkly elf shoes ❤ i love you too friend ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊😻❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonder how you’d be if you had my poor old body.
Many Years ago shortly after my first marriage busted up I went to Sydney for a couple of days, (I lived in Melbourne back then)
Hitting the booze pretty hard, two bottles of brandy, every day, plus whatever, I was wandering along around Circular Quay, and I came across this newspaper seller.
He had no legs.
His torso was strapped into a small wheel barrow type of thing and he’d propel himself along, at great speed I might add, around the Quay.
Smiling, laughing chatting to all;
Something I’d read long before sprang to mind.
I had the blues
Because I had no shoes;
Until upon the street
I met a man who had no feet.
I had both my legs with feet attached,
I’ve never felt sorry for myself since,
That was in 1964
LikeLike
Good for you? I wonder. I watched my father deny his feelings and mine for decades. I also watched my mother putting on her happy face for everyone though, as a polio survivor, she was in serious pain and depression most of her adult life.
I’m from the generation that’s paying the overdue bill on all this ‘don’t worry, be happy’ upbringing. The story about the newspaper seller is indeed amazing. Good for him for finding a way to survive. I wonder what happened at night when he went home and had to face his reality. Also, there’s a huge difference between feeling sorry for oneself and acknowledging legitimate, important and healing pain or agony.
As you can see, your story and comments made me think a lot. For that I’m grateful. My post today reflects some of my thinking.
Cheers, Brian! You have indeed found ways to survive–for which you are to be congratulated. Nonetheless, I know it isn’t the whole story.
Respectfully,
Elouise
LikeLike
I don’t think my upbringing could ever be thought of as ‘don’t worry, be happy’ I was born at the end of the depression years and into a family that could only be classed as
poor/low class. My father was a blacksmith working at the gasworks. (I’ve been meaning to do a post with a photo of that place taken in 1925 and he would be somewhere in it). I’d had polio, (luckily for me I was the carrier and made a full and complete recovery) The war came and I was sent away as a ‘vacuee’ for a while. My schooling was disrupted because of this. I was forced from school and into the workforce on my 15th birthday I was lucky that they had stopped sending boys up chimneys by then.
Yet I cannot recall being unhappy. That was my life and I accepted it for what it was. I obeyed the rules and did as I was told. Disappointments were there but I never dwelt upon them.
On reflection the breakup of my first marriage and it’s effect on me was mostly wounded pride, I was a selfish loner/lonely boy; who preferred his own company and his books. I’ve always lost myself in books and reading.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Brian. Life is what it is. Right now I’m finding my way as one retired woman in a sea of growing uncertainty, deception and polarization. I don’t want to lose my voice, get swallowed up in a long list of daily health-related maintenance routines, or lose connections with friends and family I love. Thanks for your comments about your own life.
LikeLiked by 1 person