God, no. On so many levels.
I mean, it’s not supposed to be. I don’t believe we should ever be satisfied with how things turned out. We should always be surprised by ourselves.
Am I disappointed in some things? Absolutely. I’m still not published but I did receive a “revise and resubmit” from an agent (which I’m still working on because of other life things). I’m not an amazing artist, but I sure have grown significantly during the class I took this semester.
I’m surprised at my growth as a writer and an artist and I’m proud of myself for it.
I miss my grandmother, who passed back in July. (What a segue)
But I also spoke to her every day. I told her I loved her every day. I know that she was proud of me and would be proud of me for how I’ve grown as an artist.
My back has gotten worse and I’ve applied for disability (again, great segue).
That’s scary and it’s not really what I thought I’d be doing and dealing with at the ripe old age of 35.
I don’t like looking ahead, because so many things are out of our control, and looking back can be mixed. Yes, I used to be able to do a lot of things, but so did a lot of other people. I can’t lift my legs above my head anymore (really like my knee), but who’s measuring, and for what reason would I do that?
I also can’t do double pirouettes anymore. Who cares? I didn’t pursue a career in dance. I’m a writer. And I’m a better writer now than I was this time last year.
I’m a better artist.
I’m a better storyteller.
Am I where I thought I’d be in my life? No. But I’m still growing.
And I can be proud of that.