consequentialmortalevolution

[consequentialmortalevolution]

My Face

My eyes, lines above and bags below.

My neck, stretched and droopy.

My skin, faded with scars.

I’m tired and it shows.

[consequentialmortalevolution]

[consequentialmortalevolution]

Carolinas

It was only three days long, but long enough to change my life. 

My ex-boyfriend, Corey, had recently moved down to South Carolina after retiring from the police force up here in Illinois. He had invited me down to visit & offered to pay for the ticket. That was enough for me. We had several discussions on how I wanted to leave Chicago. Leave my life here. He suggested I check out Greenville. A smaller city in South Carolina. I arrived on a Thursday and Greenville was our day trip that following Saturday. It was beyond beautiful. It captured my heart within the first few minutes of arriving.  A small downtown, with a Main Street covered in a canopy of large trees. Small independent shops, outdoor dining, and a small river with a waterfall running right through the center. City and nature, what more could I ask for? It was then and there that I confirmed it was time to move.

[consequentialmortalevolution]

1971

The year I was born. I am now officially 50 years old, an emotional mess. Questioning the meaning of life. The purpose of life. Why am I here? What have I done that has made a different? I can’t find an answer to any of the questions I have. 

I have never felt like a true adult. Although I successfully raised two children on my own. Bought my own home. Did a fair amount of traveling and countless other feats - I have never felt like an adult. I have a severe case of imposter syndrome. This is something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember. I never felt as if I belong. With my siblings, as an artist, with co-workers, as a runner after completing two marathons, with friends, in relationships, as a mother, the list is endless. 

I’ll proudly own the failures in my life. Accomplishments, they’re never real, never deserving. 

50. 50. 50. 50. No matter how many times I say it, it doesn’t seem real. What am I suppose to do with it? I’m officially old. That is something I can not deny. I’m scared I’ve wasted too much time, that I’ll continue wasting time and before I know it my life will be over. I’m scared of death, of being alone, of leaving nothing to my children once I’m gone. 

As I wallow in the self-deprecating thoughts consuming my mind - the other side of me steps forward. I describe this part of me as stubborn-stupid. This is the part of me that moves forward. Regardless of fear, doubt, lack of skill & knowledge. This is the part of me that works hard and moves forward no matter what. I don’t contribute that to strength, nor fearlessness. That is the stubborn-stupid side. Stubborn because I will not stop regardless of my shortcomings, and stupid because I may put myself in danger or push myself further than I should logically go. 

This is the beginning of my journey. The me that no one else knows. The person that was put away long ago. When I was a child at no more than 5 years of age and my father slapped me so hard that I went flying into the bottom of an antique sewing machine and cut my chin open. The child that constantly was told how lazy she was by her mother. The oldest of 5, with the least amount of athletic and academic ability. The child that was raised by a mother that was drugged and raped less than 2 years before I was born and a father that was sucked into the hells of Vietnam to witness countless deaths. 

At 50 I am ready to walk away from it all.