Time, an interlude from my love story


Aging.  Lately I feel like I am racing against time.  I am 33 and I am not where I want to be.  I want to have accomplished more.  What, I do not know.   I am proud of my jewelry business but it does not feel like enough.

Maybe  this is my 7 year itch.  Did I get the bug during my improv class?  Maybe I can be more than a jewelry designer, maybe I could be a writer or a director.  Even saying that, makes me feel unworthy of such titles.  I remember I thought the same about saying “I want to be a jewelry designer.”  The words seemed like I was pretending to be somebody I am not.  I used to force myself to say it.  I am a jewelry designer.  For the first 3 years, I said, “I make jewelry.”  That was as serious as I could take myself.

Now when I think about writing, I feel the same. An unworthy impostor.  I talk to people who say “I am a writer” and I want to kneel before them in awe.  Fist for saying that, and second for doing it.  Maybe I have a voice, like them, to share with more than just my friends.  Maybe I want to reach more people.  I think of this and instantly I think, why?  Do I have something more to say than other people?  Do I want to make a difference?  How could I make a difference through writing or doing comedy?  Is it because I do not like what is going on with TV?  Or is it that I want to be “somebody”.  I am somebody.

Some days I wake up and I think, I should just stay home with Isaiah.  I should raise him myself, no nanny, just mom.  This is the ultimate purpose.  But the reality is I need my time to be sane and to do projects I want to do.  What if my projects do not amount to anything?  Oh yes, it is the process that is rewarding, right?

That is what the books say.  When I think about why I am writing and what I am writing, I do not want to write.  I do not know where it is going or why I am doing it?  Do I want to be famous?  That makes me not want to write anymore.  What would I do with fame.  If I do it for money, it makes me nervous.  I may never get a penny for this work and the pressure makes me confused about the whole thing.  Do it to help people?  With what?  How can my scribbling help anyone?  What if I do it just to do it.  The doing it, that is good.  No goal, no mission statement, just the process.  But what about the accomplishments?  In the book Happier, the author talks about our accomplishment driven society.  He talks about accomplishing goals and only moments after feeling bad.  I relate to that feeling.  You want something, ahh ahh ahh like a baby, and then you get it, and you are on to the next goal.  The process is the key.  But how can I just waste my life away without a goal?

I was told by Avraham, the Kabalist artist in Tzefat, that my hebrew name Zahavah holds a challenge.  The word means Gold.  I have to overcome physical gold and to come into the spiritual gold.  In the beginning of the year, I thought that meant, overcoming physical gold of jewelry and coming into the spiritual gold of writing.  I was taking the words literally.  Now I am in the unknown.  I do not know what my spiritual gold is.  The books say, it is helping other people.  When I try to help other people, it does not help.  I come on too strong, so now I keep my opinions to myself, unless someone is really asking for it.  Anyway the idea of helping other people is always daunting.  How do you help others?   How can I help myself?  I know, you help yourself by following your dreams but what if you do not know what your dream is?

I was working at the Coop yesterday.  An older lady next to me said that her son who is 27 keeps coming home to live.  They want him to move out already.  She said that his generation is the one that takes from 20s to 30s to find themselves.  Is it narcissism?  Or is it evolution?  Was the previous generation still in survival mode and now that we are thriving, we are confused by our choices.  We see that there are more choices and more possibilities.  When I worked on Wall St., I thought that the world was limited.  I thought I had to work there forever to survive.  When I started my business, the possibilities opened up.  I started to see that there is more.  If I can start a business without any formal jewelry education and make it successful, I can do anything.  But lately, I became concerned with time.

Do I have time?  Time for what?

9:14 pm



8 responses to “Time, an interlude from my love story

  1. We all question our purpose. How we choose to live our life by the decisions we make. For the record, I think you are amazing. An inspiration to many. You are accomplished, you are a mother, you are a wife, and you can be all that you want to be and more. The people who do it best do it all. And I must leave you with a quote… “With our thoughts we make our world”

  2. At the salon with Rhonda Musak (who guest posted a few weeks ago on my blog) she talked about that question of “why.” “why” just gets us in circles. Round and round and round. our heads just trying to figure it out. You don’t have to know why you want to write. Or how it is going to help. Maybe that is not for you to know right now! It’s that urge, that drive, that curiosity that counts, and that’s what you have! That is the gold…

    P.S. I went about 5 years without calling myself an actress. But it’s powerful to just declare whatever it is you want to be. Now I say I’m a writer and performer.
    Lots of love.

  3. You are helping people by doing the things you do… Inspiration. You are an inspiration through your courage to use your voice in life and in writing and in making jewelry. Now is the time that people are climbing onto to their true paths… If we don’t, we could get lost. It’s essential that you be a leader by DOING what is in your heart, pure and simple. The effect will happen on its own.

    Call me, girl.

  4. I have struggled with this since I was a journalism major at NYU. You figure that degree gives me a right to call myself a writer, right? (ha ha, no pun intended.) But, alas that’s not the case. You are a writer if you write. Clear and simple. If you want to put an adjective in front of the word writer, that is you putting judgment on it … and we are our own harshest judges. Women, especially.
    I wrote this 2 years ago; it’s called “I am a writer” – it echos much of what you say, I think: http://www.heartseverywhere.com/2009/01/i-am-writer.html

  5. Sorry … one more …

    Not sure if you read Bukowski … or if you’re read this short poem – but it sums it up. You are a writer if you can’t not be:

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