The Meaning of Life

Is to be alive.

I just read those words and they're resonating pretty strongly right now.

I was over at Aztec Lady's blog reading about the fractures in romancelandia while my own personal life is having some pretty hard times. And I'm looking at all the schisms, all the unhappiness and problems and also the pleasures and joys still out there and I realized that I have it pretty well made.

Because tonight my family will be sitting together at dinner, the adults drinking margaritas and laughing and for that moment tonight, the world will be all right. Later today I'm going to call Carolyn and we'll talk for a good hour about books and life and I'll feel connected. And I'll end the evening tonight sitting with my daughter watching the season finale of Gotham, eating cookies and gasping and giggling and there will be love and connection.

It's about connection. At least, it is for me.

Connections break and with that, we feel adrift. As women we're socialized to relate to the world via our personal relationships. We're taught to clean the house, cook and provide a home for the family. We know that we'll provide the first home via our wombs of our children and good chance many women will be providing the last homes and caregiving for their aging parents.

We're the connection between the family, the community and the world. It's not politics although politics come into it. It's who we are. Who we're taught to be.

This is a little rambling because I feel like something is broke in a lot of different places and I don't know how to fix it. Some is fixable: my job isn't working for me or my employer and I need to find something where my skills work and I can be useful. I'm not getting fired but I am getting discouraged beyond belief and I don't like living this way.

My home life is pretty okay but I don't feel like I have my feet under me completely. Part of it is financial, part of it is missing what I had. Mollie told me the other night that she misses it being just the two of us and although I feel happier with family, I feel sad that my daughter and I struggle to hold onto us. What we like about us.

Online I'm completely adrift. All of my communities are gone. Dear Author used to be my blog home but now I go there and feel wary. Any time I see a NA book reviewed I feel like I'm being ambushed. I don't trust that they have my best interests at heart. I lost my trust. Facebook is the same. If someone isn't trying to sell me something then they're trying to influence my vote, my tastes, myself.

I'm writing because I need some escape from all this. But even that is making me feel fractured because a part of me feels guilty to think that my writing is for sale. I write to be read and because I like my $40 Amazon royalties because they put gas in the car. But I feel deceptive online as an author.

It's a fucking mess. Thank God for margaritas tonight.