A new friend sent me a word last night. Freedom. I spent the day thinking about what that meant to me. And ironically, given what happened in my life today, the word took on even more significance. My interpretation of freedom is deeply personal.
When I was a teenager, freedom meant being able to talk to my friends on the phone in my room without my parents or brother listening in. Or taking the car to be able to drive to the next town over to go to the movies. It means so much more to me these days.
Freedom to me is about the ability to be the real me. And not caring what a spouse, or my parents, or anyone thinks of that. Obviously, I hope that person is good, kind, decent and smart; the kind of person my children, family and friends are proud to know. At this point in my life I have no one left to impress, except myself. Everyone else is just gravy.
Sometimes, I think of freedom in terms of my lack of it. For example, being a single mom I don't get the luxury of dropping everything to go on childless vacations on non-school vacation weeks whenever I want to. I now spend my free time at home shoveling in a snowstorm or fixing a leaky faucet. But guess what? I try to turn that picture around and think of it the other way. Rather than find my situation daunting, I choose to look at it as liberating.
I have the freedom to forge a relationship with my two daughters that is more important to me than a couple of trips to the Caribbean without them. I have the freedom to create an environment of learning, growth and bonding that the three of us are all benefitting from in a way that is different than when there were four of us together. And I have the freedom to prove to both myself and my children how capable I am. And in turn, how capable they are. I love that.
Most importantly, however, I have the freedom to make choices that are best for ME. Of course, some of my decisions are what's best for the three of us. This morning, a recently widowed friend and I discussed the benefits and downsides to moving, and how that potentially affects children. I'd love to leave my house. At this point in the game, however, I am doing what's best for them. Their stability and comfort during this transitional time is way more important to me than my lack of desire to be in a big house with way too many memories. However, what I do next with my career, or who I date, or what I write about or choose to pursue in general - those are my decisions to make. Me. Myself. I. I want this freedom. I need this freedom. If I screw up, no one is my safety net. I am a flying Wallenda on the trapeze by myself, with no one to take my hands right now. So I will be doing my act alone, and do my best not to fall on my face. And maybe some people in the circus audience will be there to cheer me on when they watch me do a few death defying stunts.
I do miss being part of a team. I hope one day to have someone on another trapeze ready to reach for my hands. I believe I can balance the independence with the partnership with the right person. Until I find that, however, I will embrace this freedom.
For now though, I'm the star of my own circus. Somehow I'm managing to have a good time while I'm performing. I trust my instincts, and I ask for help when I need it (granted, not often, but I'm getting better.) I'm fairly confident I'm going to land on my feet. And if I don't, well, it's been a hell of a fun act.
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