On a personal note

The Meaning of Life…

If you clicked on this link because you thought you would finally find the answer that plagues every one of us, I apologize because you will find no answers here.  This is one of those questions that will most probably never be answered to any great satisfaction.

I write this blog because I am trying to define meaning in my life.  Hoping that I have served some purpose in this world.  When I am gone, will anyone remember me?  Have I done anything that has made a difference in someone’s life?  And that makes me no different than you or anyone else.  We all have the same worries, the same self doubt.  Some people deal with it better than others, facing it head on and changing the world around them.   Some choose not to deal with it at all.

Friday July 13th, 1990 was the day I became a mother to a wonderful son.  And September 11, 2002 blessed me again with another amazing boy.  Being a mother has been the single, greatest purpose in my life.  My oldest, now 22, lives in Esquimalt BC, just a stone’s throw from Victoria, where he serves aboard the HMCS Algonquin, one of the Canadian Navy’s air defence destroyers.  He serves as a Hull Technician aboard that vessel and his biggest job is to keep Her safe and I pray everyday that She is deployed that She keeps him safe as well.  My youngest has just turned 10 and he is growing up all too fast.  In another 10 years, maybe less, he too will move away from home to start his own life.

After that, I am at a loss as to what my purpose will be.   I am a wife, but I’m not sure how good of one I am.  The dishes are never done, what laundry is washed doesn’t get put away and I never iron.  We have a dewrinkler that sits in the laundry room right next to the washing machine.  People tell me that it also doubles as a clothes dryer.  My husband says he’s happy, so I can’t be doing everything wrong.  Or maybe he just gotten used to the sock basket.

I work full time and I find it leaves very little time for anything else.  I would love to cross stitch, but my eyes don’t see so well anymore, although I don’t like to admit it.  I picked up the knitting needles again, but I get distracted too easily and forget my place in the pattern.  I never could crochet and the only painting I can do is paint by number, and not very well because my hands shake.

So it all comes down to the fact that I am getting old, and guess what… I am afraid.  Afraid that I’ve wasted too much time worrying about what everyone else thinks.  I have spent too much time trying to please too many people over things that don’t even matter.  I still cannot strike out in anger.  It is not in my nature.

Looking back, I should have stood up for myself in times when others put me down instead of accepting their opinions.  I will no longer listen to the negative influences, choosing to focus only on the positive. I will take what others say with a grain of salt and remember what matters to me.  So going on from here, my purpose in life is to be true to myself and give meaning to my life instead of trying to find it.

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