Before I continue thus forward into the continuing saga of my life, I must stop to ponder the age old question of who I am. There are labels that can quantify my belief of who I am.
First, I call myself a Christian, albeit one that messes up frequently into indiscretions such as emotional rants and tyrades, am very devoted to my true love and spiritual husband, Jesus the Christ. This calling me a Christian connects me with a circle of well meaning devotees that attend to my heart through prayer and supplication, regardless of our current standing, I have too many friends of the faith to count on my hand. However, calling myself a Christian isn't because I attend a certain church no more than driving into a garage makes you a car. I am a Christian because of my faith in Christ; in so many words, because I follow the one I call Savior.
Next, I call myself a teacher, which is not merely because I spent a year and a half toiling through countless amounts of textbooks and articles spelling out what it means to teach, writing papers on the meaning of child development which didn't really prepare me for the reality of teaching. But, I am a teacher for the heart I have to distill whatever wisdom or knowledge I have on the students and friends that circle my life. In fact, my primary teaching experience came from my years as a preschool teacher, not only at the wonderful, inspired preschool "Lil Rascals", but even at the crazy experiences at the unorganized La Petite Academy and others. I learned to think on my feet, as one says, and adapt quickly and thoughtfully to the changing tides of life's course. Mostly, I seem to have the most influence on young children and even still they have a much larger influence on me. Their readiness to learn and appreciate the wonders of God's good earth never ceases to amaze and mystify me. And, it was Jesus that says we are to enter the kingdom as a little child.
Next, I would consider myself an actress. Now, this is a term that has newly emerged back into my vocabulary of self description. I left acting behind in 2001 when I ran from the SOU theater department into the light hearted structure of the Communication department. But, if any of my dear friends can testify, I never truly lost my sense of dramatic. I never lost my desire for the stage or screen. In my current profile, I call myself a "wannabe actress" because I have yet to trespass across the boards yet again. One of the reason I left the title behind is I could never find myself on the stages of SOU and felt like a failure at that title. But, since learning of my illness and now my anxiety level, I have learned that failing an audition should not be taken as a personal affront but as a learning lesson. If at first one doesn't succeed, try, try again. And yet, as I said I never left the theater world, because I was one of the stars of a local Christian film during my stint at Calvary Chapel Healdsburg and continued to write for theater. From an early age, I caught the bug and all these years subsequently masquerading as a "professional teacher" (or trying to be), I have always come away with a mystified look on my face when I attend a good play. Also, if any of these drama teachers could see me in the acting classes I took, where I played the likes of Lady Macbeth (oops, will my blog be cursed now?), Nina from the Seagull, and a scene from Angels in America, they would not be so hesitant to cast me in one of their productions. So, as I put together my scant and old resume for my new foray into the acting world, I am amazed at just how many performance opportunities I did have back in the old days; from short movie roles to radio performances to the Vagina Monologues. Yes, ladies and gents, if it comes to no surprise to you, I have a flair for the dramatic and yes, I do have talent. For this reason, I am determined to one day change the title of "wannabe actress" to merely "actress". Still, I hope will never take the play out of the theater even if I never walk the carpet and hold the golden statue and utter words, "I'd like to thank the academy and all the little people I stepped on to get here."
Next, a writer. Ever since I could hold a pencil, I have been writing. Not many have seen the likes of my earlier writing, except for my dear little friend, Malaenuh, who laughed at the pictures I drew to coincide with the writing. My first real story was that of a little bear named Ropololo and his adventures with his horse, LongGone, and his friend the slide, Sliderella. As I grew the stories turned into angst ridden poems and prose. Since the years of battling bipolar, the writing as yet again emerged. Since the wild and thrilling experience at the cafe in Oregon, I have been working steadfastly on a play of that nature, to the intense humor of my friends. I never could even understand why I felt the urge to write such a travail; but yet I did and I finished it months before my darling husband came sauntering back into my life through a facebook post. You know, not only is it a tale of a coffee shop, but it is the haphazard love story loosely based on the one of mine. (In some other writing, I will give a testimony of how the writing of that play kept me sane and became part of the history of my journey through recovery and transformation.) Also, new stories have cropped up and even an attempt at an autobiography or memior or whatever wording you prefer. Then, starting and faithfully attempting to write this blog daily has become an exerpt in my new beginnings as a dare I say professional writer. A side note: for those of you who thought I would also pursue a career as a therapist, I have decided against that because of the amount of time it would take away from my writing.
For the last stressful and yet exciting my profession has been that of recovery, although due to my father's pressure I have been trying to continue my pursuit as a teacher. And, as we say in NAMI, I am not my illness, hence, I am not Bipolar. I am a person who struggles with Bipolar. But, in every sense of the word, I am mentally ill and no matter how I grow and change and become more, shall we say, sane, I will always connect myself to that world. However much, I would love to leave behind the years of suffering and pain and woe, those years are apart of me. I have learned greatly why I was the way I was all my life, why I failed or struggled at acting, why my mind seemed to always play tricks at me, and have become a whole and complete person because of these discoveries. And all of you potential employers who think bipolars are not capable of handling any kind of work, strike that from your minds completely. I can assure you that the same determination and heart that got me through the years before the diagnosis, albeit the hidden suffering, I still have after the years of my recovery, even more so.
Because of my diagnosis, my next "label" is that of an advocate, not only for my friends suffering with mental illness, but that of any of my friends in dire straits. Although at times of my suffering, I wanted to celebrate when another suffered, I have since changed my tone and have turned to one with a heart of compassionate for the lost and the sick, hopefully, someday attaining the heart of Christ truly and completely.
Lastly, my latest label is that of loving wife and lover. For years before the marriage, I was a intense and faithful lover of this man and yet didn't know it. In my daily prayers and talks with God, I would implore him to bring Bill to me and exclaim "I love him, please, I want to marry him." In the back of my mind, he would follow me everywhere. It wasn't until November of 2009, when I was randomly searching through a friend's facebook page that I saw a picture of him. It was then that I realized he was the only man that I had truly loved. I am truly sorry to all of those boyfriends that I dated and swore to love for all eternity but this fact is true. On the spring equinoz of 2003, I looked into the eyes of my love and saw something, what I can't really explain, and it never truly left me. A year before the finding of the picture on facebook, I had given up on writing the play, saying its cheesy, I give up. Shortly after that time period, I had realized that, in fact, I am a writer, even if it never goes behind friends or families faithful eyes. So, I gave my writing to the Lord and asked him to hold the pen or type the words. As soon as I saw Bill's picture, the words of the play came back to me. I turned back to the play and began doing major surgery and had a lot of fun doing it. Suddenly after years of toiling and struggling with just the right wording, I knew exactly what I wanted to say. The lines were cut quickly and without mercy leaving me with a few monologues and a line here or two and from that I birthed the true creation. Then, I started having the dreams and the intuition. Bill was in trouble: He was dying. I had to find him. I looked wherever I could go but all came up empty. My heart cried out to him, even if he never returned my love, I had to tell him, I had to let him know that I loved him. A few days after I hopelessly gave up the search, he found me on facebook and the story goes from there. The title of wife fits for the legal reasons but truly he is my lover and best friend, happily, along with our kitty, Z.
To all of you friends, I am also your lover. I have been thinking of each of you, not knowing your thoughts on my words, but thinking of your faithfulness and steadfastness to me these last few years and my heart beats ever more for you. I hope in return that you two can call me friend, that I can return the favor as faithful and true.
So, do all these labels as such define who I am? Mostly, I would define myself as a child at heart, in fact, my name means youthful one. In my teen years, I had my favorite teacher tell me I was magical and through my own doing and those of my friends I have definitely been blessed with that of the magic. At the age of 30, despairing of the loss of my youth, I walked into a coffee shop that I hardly went to, and told the barista that I had just turned 30 and was bemoaning the loss of the good times. In fact one example I used was the fact that I could never ride on the swings in Lithia Park at midnight again, to which she replied that in fact I could. She assured me that the 30s were not the end of the world of youth but merely the dawning of a new age. That age doesn't mean the end of childhood. Recently I have had several friends (and you know who you are), almost in fact turn against me because I am not serious enough for our yes, old age of the mighty 30s, thinking that now is the time to buckle down and act serious. They are also of the mindset in some regards, what have I accomplished by this time. A few years before I hit the big day, I thought in these terms too. But, because of this magical moment with this barista, the thirties have brought lightness of heart and childlike wonder. I wish never to return to the craziness of the rambling twenties, although it appears at times I act that way. Yes, I have become more determined and seriousness, but I wish never to lose the joy and sense of enjoyment of life that I have carried through me all of my life. In fact, this magical joy has intensified in these latter days. So, to my friends who see the thirties as a death null or a time of despair, fear not...from my experience, the thirties have become the happiest time of my life, the most free, the most joyful, the most celebratory. I implore you, dear friends (you know who you are), don't look back at what you haven't accomplished or what you want to accomplish, treasure each moment that life has to offer, take it one day at a time, and never,never, lose that childlike wonder and joy. Never lose the sense of self, the core of your being, because that is who we are, despite the labels that are thrust upon us. A wise person once said, "Life is what happens when we are busy making other plans."
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