Lately, I have seriously considered getting a cat charm to wear on a bracelet. I’m not a cat person at all. In fact, although I had a moment in life where I actually owned one of the furry disdainful beasts; I barely tolerate them. A cat charm would serve as a reminder to me though about who I am and who I want to be.
I have made several references in my writings in the past about widows being sad, gray haired, hunch-backed old ladies that shuffle behind closed curtains and collect cats.
Widows are not young people with children.
Widows aren’t the person you see hanging out with their friends at a restaurant.
Widows are not exuberant newlyweds.
I might be a widow, but I am not going to collect cats.
There is a man that my husband and I see sometimes. I remarked that he always seems so serious, although I have never talked to him on a personal level. Then before I could stop myself I added, “but I guess some see me that way too.”
I am fully aware that most conversations I have with people in person always start with them asking “Are you OK?”
Brian agreed and said that sometimes I probably come across as that “cat widow.”
Dang, I *loathe* when I have to self examine myself.
I’m an introvert by “nurture” not by “nature” so it’s a constant struggle to join in the public.
I spent a lot of years tucked away by myself and because of that situation, I withheld a lot of physical signs of emotion. I attribute some of my mental/emotional survival to being able to effectively hide.
I also am just not comfortable in crowds (and to me, more than 3 people can be considered a crowd) I don’t know what led to me being like that, it just is. I start getting into a “crowded” situation and I automatically start “hiding” and trying to put distance around me.
It’s a skill that although I don’t want anymore, I am comfortable doing.
I don’t want you seeing that side of me though. I don’t want you to think I am more comfortable closing the drapes and collecting cats.
I like to laugh. I love to play pranks. I jump in puddles with my kids. I like to have grocery cart races down the parking lot. I like to hug. I like to hear about you.
But sometimes when I am “hidden,” you don’t see that.
I don’t want you to ask me “Are you OK?” because I seem so serious, I want you to grab my hand and let’s laugh.
I don’t want there ever to be a conversation where someone whispers about me, “she just seems so serious all the time.”
…and frankly… I need a cat charm to remind me to quit doing what is comfortable and to show you what is true.