TheBanyanTree: The End of Summer

[Sally Larwood]

No doubt in the world. You. Are. A writer!!!!!!!! Get that into your head please. This is wonderful and summer is just on its way to us and you've made me remember all my summers too and as I enjoy encroaching spring I'll wait to enjoy summer. 

Sal 

Sent from my iPad 

On 02/09/2012, at 5:21, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com> wrote:

> I’ve never really grown up when it comes to summer. Each summer I have the
> same issues with wanting to be out playing instead of inside working.
> Growing up, I never worked in the summer. A job might have been a good idea
> in high school, but my time was filled with looking after my younger
> brother, and a job just never fit it into the schedule.
> 
> 
> 
>              Besides, I never had any skills and didn’t know how to get a
> job. Instead I took care of Jeff, picking him up from preschool, hanging
> out with him, answering his endless questions, hanging out by the pool with
> him (he was a much better swimmer than I by the time he was 3), and letting
> summer float by.
> 
> 
>               I still want summers to float by. When it was hot, really
> hot, I wanted the summer to fly by, the sooner the better. But when the
> temperatures go down into the 70’s and 80’s I just want it to float by,
> lazy days where I do what I want, a giant summer vacation. It doesn’t, of
> course, because I still have to earn a living, since money doesn’t grow on
> trees.
> 
> 
>               This summer I also tried to convince myself and others that
> I was a writer, and some people are still buying that lie. I’m still buying
> it myself, though I have certainly faced the subject head on and should, by
> all logical measures, abandon the idea and console myself with a life of
> being paid by the hour.
> 
> 
>               No such luck. I have faced really dark times. I have doubted
> myself, and I have been tired and frustrated. I have fought against
> encroaching depression, which is just something I have to do, no matter
> what I do with my life. I have wished for other skills and other knowledge,
> and I have wished to not care if I never write again. I have repeatedly
> dealt with the idea that I am not a special snowflake, that I may be more
> hype than substance, that writing will always be my “little hobby,”
> something which people think is cute in a sort of, “Oh, isn’t that cute
> that she writes those little books” sort of way.
> 
> 
>               I always wanted my family’s approval, and even though they
> like me well enough, it has occurred to me that it’s not that they don’t
> approve of me, but they’re just not that interested in what I do, and that
> we have no common ground. Also, it’s not that they don’t consider me good
> enough, it’s that I don’t. I will always wish they approved of me, and
> though people tell me it doesn’t matter in the slightest, it’s as if it’s
> built into me, and I can’t escape it.
> 
> 
>               I haven’t floated through this summer as gracefully as I
> would have liked. For that matter, doing anything gracefully isn’t my
> forte. I consider Labor Day weekend to be my last glimpse of summer, and
> once it’s over I can return to my real life of working on numbers and
> fitting in some writing when I can. Of course, that describes my summer
> also, but in summer it’s so much more work to get myself to sit down and do
> the work when the sky outside is so blue and I know, just know without even
> thinking about it, that I belong out there.
> 
> 
>               After Labor Day is when I restart, again, and hope I can do
> it better this time. Or at least do it without so much self-doubt. Or at
> least do it without banging my head against the wall wondering why I can’t
> do it better. Self-flagellation is not something I aspire to, though I am
> quite good at it. In summer I can excuse myself because it is summer, but
> this summer I have been very hard on myself. I hope to lessen it, though
> I’m not yet sure how that will happen.
> 
> 
>               Summer is coming to an end, and I am still fighting off this
> virus that makes me so tired, makes my throat hurt, make my chest feel like
> there’s a giant weight on it. Or maybe it’s hay fever. Or maybe it’s just
> the end of summer, barreling down on me like an out-of-control freight
> train. (An overused metaphor, but still useful now and then.) Maybe it’s
> just another stop on my journey to wherever it is I’m going.
> 
> 
>               This is why I put off scheduling a doctor appointment.
> “Doctor, I’m having problems, and I think it’s because summer is ending.”
> “Doctor, I feel like crap, but it’s probably just the freight train headed
> my way.” “Doctor, if I’m so healthy why do I feel so bad?”
> 
> 
>               “Doctor, it’s the end of summer, can you make it painless?”
> 
> 
>               I love fall, and I love winter, so I shouldn’t have a
> problem with the end of summer. But I do – new beginnings, the concept of
> change, the idea that another year is speeding by and I’m still looking for
> my place. I have all the pieces: a great husband, great dogs, a great place
> to live, work I’m paid for, daily gratefulness for everything that has
> brought me here, where my greatest joys are, and still, still I keep
> looking for more.
> 
> 
>               Now I need a nap. It’s the virus thing, of course.
> 
> 
> 
> Monique Colver
> An Uncommon Friendship: a memoir of love, mental illness, and friendship
> Now available at
> Amazon<http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Monique+Colver>
> and
> at www.AnUncommonFriendship.com <http://anuncommonfriendship.com/>
> www.ColverPress.com
> monique.colver at gmail.com
> (425) 772-6218