It has not gone without notice that much of what I write is cynical, self-deprecating, and whiny. It is true too that I greatly amuse myself with the things I manage to balls up and perhaps erroneously posit that it will prove amusing to others as well. It is probably a lot less funny to read about what has gone right. I’ll try anyway.
Yesterday I sold off some photo equipment. A few weeks ago it was a fat pile of 8x10 color film which I concluded I just was not going to use. At one time I did night photography with transparency film and I thought if one extra box of film was good, 40 was even better. I am neither getting younger nor more enthused about taking pictures so it makes no sense to hold onto it. I am waiting for the inevitable grief that will follow, and the unknown way in which I will handle it. That person is gone and I do not think she is coming back.
I think it is true that much of my life, in terms of collecting items, is about trying to create the me I want to be, rather than accepting the me I am. The former is of course much more compelling than the latter. No matter what I might buy, however, that gal never shows up.
Funnily, or perhaps predictably, what happens is that my thoughts change while I am waiting for the perfect Amanda to come into view. Even though I persist in wearing inky t-shirts and the same pants for several days, my little mind is working on letting go. I can’t manage to wash my hair more than once a week, but I write every day. I stopped cooking dinner but I spend a lot less time judging others. The changes I thought were important are not the ones that actually happen.
All the self-help gurus seem to say that you have to learn to love yourself, but I do not care for the connotations I find in that word. Instead, I prefer acceptance. That leaves me just as flawed, just as irritating, just as imaginative, but also a complex amalgamation of traits that can be admired even as they perplex. Am I in love with me? Oh hell no, nor do I ever want to be—but I am well along the road to accepting what and who I am.