Mourning Me

Tonight I mourn the dreams that never came to be. 

In doing this I feel guilty.  I have never lost a child.  I have not been divorced.  I've never had to declare bankruptcy, or leave my home due to genocide, or endure physical abuse.

What I mourn is the loss of an ideal. Some ideals. 

The hope that my husband and I might provide for and raise our children together in love and harmony.  The dream of giving our children all they need, deserve, and desire.  The hope of creating a space where people could come to learn, create, connect, and be empowered. The hope of using the resources we have to create and serve and inspire.  The hope that we would have sufficient resources at all--monetary, emotional, mental.

I have accomplished a lot.  WE have accomplished a lot.  And I feel we have nothing much to show for it. 

The dreams were passing, I guess. More like wishes.  I am tempted to think that they were never real or important in the first place.  I'm tempted to be angry and envious of all the people who create and who grew up with mentors who taught them to create; of the people who make it their course of study for years, and who learned the business and succeeded in creating whatever it was they first dreamed they would.

It makes me feel wary of dreaming.  I feel tired.

I want to create what's next.  I want to be on Broadway.  I want to be a singer on a stage still.  I want to be happy and playful and bouncy and fun.  And I'm not right now.  I want to change.  Change back into me.