Purpose

Living a life of purpose is a goal or maybe just a skill. Finding meaning in the purpose is the job of religion or philosophy. Contemplative tasks don't seen to provide much meaning.

My purposes are many. I am daughter and sister, keeping memories of family of origin alive. I'm wife and mother, creating a new family. I'm grandmother, passing on the stories to small children.

I am a nurse, although no longer licensed. It is something one can't get over or past. The information that was essential to my job will not abandon me now, even though it is no longer needed. It does have some value when I do my volunteer stint at the hospital. I'm still asked for medical advice fairly often.

I am a teacher, although no longer in a classroom. I'm still asked for technical advice fairly often.

I am a writer, perhaps even an author. I've written about trips to Ireland, Alaska, and across the country. I've written essays about events for each day of the year. I've written accounts of fictional characters trapped in a different space, time, or dimension. I've written up some of the stories about my family.

And yet …

I feel adrift, purposeless. I have no hard and fast schedule of events to point to when I say what I do with my days. A neighbor is absolutely amazed that I don't work and sit at my computer all day. I have no answer when he asks what I do. I write, but not all day. I read, but not all day. I do laundry and cook, but not all day. I do this and that. I keep the house running and functional. I make sure there is toilet paper and potato chips, whatever is needed.

After years of juggling ten things at once and managing to work, play, read, and raise a family I'm now 'retired' and free to do what I want. The problem with that is figuring out what I want. I write, but I don't want to do the work involved in getting the writing published. I don't know if it is fear of success or more likely fear of failure. I don't want to learn how to market myself. I just want to write.

But I want people to read what I write so I have to learn to market myself and get my work published on a larger scale than it is currently. My website is okay; but rarely visited. How many others have websites with the same problem. With 6.5 billion people, one would think an audience would be easy. But as in real life, more people want to talk than want to listen.

So I drift through days with time weighing heavy on my hands. I could have used some of this time years ago when I was juggling the ten things at once. Then I didn't have enough and now I have too much. There seems no happy medium.

I would have thought that by this time in my life I would have figured out what my purpose is. But, apparently not.