So Afraid. . .

Why am I afraid to tell you who I am?

This is a ridiculous question I am asking myself when I think about how much this blog means to me at this time in my life. Once in a while, I contemplate whether I should just stop this whole thing. Do you ever feel that way, too?

I teach children art in an area of the country that needs all the help it can get. Once in a while, this gets me down, as well. I can understand now, how people can lose their spirit. When you see what I see every day, what they see every day, you begin to feel hopelessness. I can see why communism is such a terrible way of life, in the end. We all need to have hope that in the future that we can see our dreams become a reality. A hope for the future is an important element in good mental health.

I just said, "that the area needs all the help it can get," but I do not mean as in a hand out. What I mean is that what people need is to know that there is a way to relearn or learn anew, a way to help themselves.

I see millionaire mansions next to a house that uses trash in bags to hold plastic on the roof to stop it from leaking. It would be condemned any place else. This weekend is the home tours event. If visitors would notice, like I do, I wonder what they would do???

This makes me heartsick. 

I am trying to find ways to become more authentic. I think I am thinking about sharing what makes me happy and what makes me sad. I think I want to show you my life, for real. All of the good and the not so good. I think I need to give myself permission to do just that. Maybe this is the fuel I need to keep going.

Do you have moments like these?

I wish you would tell us, too.

This is what I look like, or I did. I am older now. This is a snapshot from a calendar I was in once upon a time.