Friday, May 23, 2014

The Maine problem...

I am not sure what it is about Maine that makes it the vacation destination for people from Massachusetts. 

As I child, we went to Hermit Island. I remember the feeling driving across the sandbar, scared to death that the ocean would suddenly rise and swallow us whole. Then sitting in the car in the stifling heat waiting for my dad to check us in at the ranger station. Looking at the map to find our campsite and trying to give directions...always mindful of how close we were to the showers and the arcade games while we drove. Then the first night...the crackling of the fire, picking a stick to roast hot dogs, burning marshmallows on purpose, lying in the tent jealous that the adults were still awake. The week was always a blur which ended on the last day with the lobster bake on the campfire. The ride home seemed to take forever...passed out in the back seat sun cooked and content.

As a teen, we went to Old Orchard Beach. My first vacations without my family were spent with high school friends. Packing more beer than food we forgot more memories than we remembered, but those were filled with laughter and will stay with my forever. 

As an adult, Maine has become the preferred destination for day trips to outlets, rambling up the coast to take photos and summer concerts in Freeport. Maybe an occasional weekend in Portland, but for the most part, my days in the vacation state were behind me. Or so I thought.

This weekend, for the first time in close to three decades, I packed my bags to head to a campground in the vacation state. Unlike my childhood or even teen years however, this time there will be no latern fueled by kerosene, no sleeping on the ground and no slimy shower floors with ice cold water. I have joined the middle age generation...sleeping in a bed, in a camper...with electricity, running water and a microwave at my disposal. 

There will be no hot dogs on sticks, no sweaty tent sleeping, and no sparklers...but there will be campfires, laughter and newly formed memories with good friends. 

Thursday, May 22, 2014

I. Me. Sonja. Who?

I wonder who I am. Often, intensely, and longingly.

I wonder what I like. Who I like. What I want to do. What I want to be. What music is my style? What clothes do I want to wear? How do I want my hair to look? Where do I want to live? Who do I want to share myself with? Am I gay? Am I straight? Will I be successful? What do I want to succeed in? Do I believe in God? Did I want kids? Do I want to get married again? What kind of food do I want to eat?

I feel funny saying I do not know the answers to these questions, and yet it is true. Sometimes I feel like a chameleon, changing my self to blend in to my environment. At other times I feel like I am just walking on eggshells, trying to make my behavior match what I think other people want from me.

Here is an example...When I was 21 I was dating someone that told me that they did not like Bob Segar. For the next 12 years, any time Bob Segar came on the radio, I changed the station. Now, mind you, we had stopped dating 11 years before I realized that I wasn't the one I was changing the station for. I still do not know if I like his music, but I can listen if I choose to (right???).

At 43 years old, when I am busy comparing my inside thoughts to other people's outside appearances, I feel alone in my quest for self. I am sure that there are other people that feel the same way, but they all look so comfortable in their lives, in their choices, in their skin. I hope they are.

Someday I will wake up in the morning and worry more about what I want, what I feel, what I like, what I need and what I love than about how I am perceived by others. And when that day comes...I imagine Bob Segar will be playing on the radio in the background...

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Day 1

I have never given much thought to how transparent I am not. I work hard to be honest, to be inspirational, to share the parts of me that succeed and encourage others to do the same. But, how honest, inspirational, successful or encouraging can I truly be when I am sharing only my best side?

Today, for the first time, outside of a room where I pay someone to listen to and accept me, I told someone parts of my truth. Not the whole truth, but pieces. Like you feed broken off pieces of bread to a duck at the park...knowing that if you give them all you have at once they will leave to quickly, filled beyond capacity and about to burst. And so it began. My decision to share my whole journey.

I do not expect anyone to follow me into this rabbit hole, but regardless, I invite you. It will not all be exposures and deep thoughts. I am sure there will also be glimpses into my life: school, work, Barley, play. But the rest will be there, for once. The darker side of my brightness should be included if you are in fact ever going to know me.

I am Sonja Jasinski, welcome.