My future is the blankets of slates. I apologize for nothing that got me here. Yeah, I wish there were times I made different choices but I didn't. The road I traveled led me to a happy marriage for almost three decades, and three beautiful, strong daughters who fill me with awe, occasionally joy, and pride knowing I helped contribute to a better world if only by their presence.
I am not a good traveler. I have always yearned to perceived as one. Good travelers are worldly. Interesting. Adventurous. Most important, good travelers are sophisticated, not anxious.
In midlife. I am at peace with the good, bad, and the challenges that is my lot. It is who I am.
Despite the self-doubting I've experienced this week, I've stepped backwards and regained the perspective I need to appreciate how far I've come in this journey, no matter how disjointed it appears right now.
I give my parents credit. As cultural Jews born in the early 1930's, my parents grew up witnessing the dangers of not questioning authorities, across the sea in the '40s, and Wisconsin in the '50s.
As far as dyslexia is concerned, I don't like being told I can't do something. Maybe my response to my "disability" was becoming an English major.
I am trying to learn to let go of my bad acting, to reconnect with my authenticity, a connection waylaid by decade of shame.