Write-Off Entry

 A QUEST FOR SELF-IDENTITY – aka NO TIME FOR BOREDOM



I’m a 70-year-old white middle-class woman with adequate means, a 45-year-old marriage, a beautiful house (older, but quite serviceable for us), and no children (by choice). In my past, I’ve had four dogs and three cats, although I’m dreadfully allergic to cat dander. I’ve got a general BA Degree and a specialized MA in Anthropology. My personal goals as I was growing up were straightforward – a basic college education (my Father insisted on that one), and an appreciation for the arts (a strong point of my Mother’s).

The information I’ve imparted in the beginning paragraph, although accurate, doesn’t even begin to describe the person I am, however. It describes my public exterior – the surface that we all wear like a mask in a play. The mask that we use to interact with other people, whether well known or total strangers.

How often do we allow our complete selves to peek through the cracks, shine out from our eyes, guide our hands, and temper our voices with the correct words to say to others? Do you allow your “real” self to shine through? If yes, do you get support for that aspect of your personhood, or are you strongly encouraged to replace the covering rock once again?

Over my lifespan I’ve experienced both responses. My parents fell into the first category. I can’t claim that they understood me, but I knew I had their absolute support in almost any endeavor I decided to attempt. I also knew that if it required anything from them – money, a place to crash for a day or two, or just a kind voice on the other end of the phone – it would be there.

I married, expecting to receive the same support. DH and I had lived together as students for two years, survived our Comprehensive Examinations and my oral defense of my thesis (his orals and thesis weren’t complete until six months after I graduated). When we lived together as students, he was encouraging, expressed interest in anything I was doing, and seemed willing to throw himself into something new if I wanted to examine it.

But as he aged, and life responsibilities weighed heavily on him – paying for our house (whichever house we were living in at the time), taking care of his aged parents, and being the only “responsible” male in his family for years – his mindset narrowed and the fun person I had married became the solemn businessman I’m partnered with today.

While I was trying to expand my artistic vision into new areas, new trends and new techniques; he was narrowing his viewpoint while erecting a non-physical fence with a single gate that he guarded carefully.

I pushed and prodded myself, and with the help of friends, courses, and teachers at trade shows like the Bead & Button Show, I created - finding out what artistic things I loved to make, and which would be done once or twice and then not repeated. I made lots and lots of artwork, utilized many different types of techniques and media, and fed my creative side – the side that gives me reasons to live.

He, meanwhile, learned the tricks and trade of finance – the stock market and investments. He created our safety-blanket, but in doing this, by worshipping at the Altar of Money, he lost the person he used to be. It was a necessary sacrifice for our security, but it is leaving him isolated now, in his late years, when he realizes he has no real friends and no real activities of interest to him.

I still hold hope that I’ll be able to leave my business behind me and return to the things I love best – making artwork for the sake of the making, learning new techniques, teaching on occasion, and expanding myself through my personal artistic vision.

I hope that in retirement, he can allow himself to expand a bit if he doesn’t have a daily job to go to, but I think there’s an equal chance that he’ll be horribly bored. I guess that’s the kernel of our differences – I’m NEVER bored; there are always a multitude of things that I can do. I’m a multimedia artist and there’s always something that I can create or design. If I’m not designing or creating or writing, I’ve got my nose in a book. Books are my constant companion since I first learned to read. He declares himself "bored" all the time, and relies on the Television or his computer games to occupy his time. I wonder who will die of boredom first? I’m pretty sure it won’t be me.