Part of My Story (As I See It Now, Maybe?)

I ramble. It's true. I admit it. As thoughts come to me I spit them out. This is who I am. I always tell the truth, as I see it, and I will continue to do that here. Now my truth may very well be different than yours but it is mine. There is no agenda in The Kimmy Files, except one of hope no matter what your circumstance.


As I try and tell my history my recollection of it may be different from others who know me well. But this is me, as I was, as I see me now...back then. (Try saying that three times fast.)

For some reason I always looked backward. I am not sure I can adequately explain it, but back looked beautiful. I would feast on family albums. Anything with me as a baby, my older brothers excitedly holding their new baby sister, my mother as beautiful as any movie star I had ever seen. In pictures, there was always a beautiful inviting smile on her face. You could read the love she had in her eyes, the pride she had, for her growing family. You could even see adventure in her soul. I innately new she was special, something she never knew. I would guess that most daughters of mothers who don't think they are good enough, pretty enough, or anything else enough, might inherit that trait, but I knew my mother was great, even if she didn't, and I took a deliberate path at a very young age to find what was special in me and not hide it. I wanted to develop in me, all of her that was truly wonderful. Pictures, believe it or not, showed me all of this. Backward was happy and beautiful. She still had hope.

My first love as a child was music. I loved to sing, dance, play the piano. Anything to do with performing I loved. Now understand, I was expert at none of these but I loved them just the same. I don't want to give you the impression that I am any kind of prodigy or have some amazing gift because I do not. Any gift I may or may not posess is no greater or lesser than anyone elses. It is all about doing with what we are given. It is all work. It is all a battle. Also understand that just because I loved performing, I usually did all my performing alone. Mostly I sang. I sang anywhere I thought there was no audience and I could belt out show tunes to my hearts content. My favorite songs to sing were from My Fair Lady, and Sound of Music. I just loved to immitate the Cockny accent of Eliza Doolittle. I remember singing rather loudly in my backyard one day. To my amazement Tim, the boy next door, yelled at me to be quiet. Naturally I told him it wasn't me singing. I couldn't imagine what he thought he had heard. Needless to say I was mortified and realized that you don't have to be able to see someone to hear them. My mother, had much better taste than the neighbor boy. She thought I had a beautiful voice and wanted me to take singing lessons. My mom had a beautiful voice. She would sing every Monday as she cleaned. It was like listening to an angel. An angel that knew show tunes. When she sang she was happy. Singing meant happy. I wanted to sing too, so I did, but not until I was thirty, unless you count junior high choir.


The piano was a joy to play, until I realized it was work. My mother played beautifully and I loved to listen to her play. She played when she was happy, or playing made her happy or peaceful. I don't know which it was. She stopped playing by the time I was a teenager. I started to play the piano when I was about three. By play I mean pound as many keys as my little hands could to create my own beautiful music. I was sure that no one could tell the difference between my music and Fur Elise. Fur Elise was the song my mother played the most. When I realized that my music wasn't really music, I decided to play songs my mother sang from the movies we watched together. Watching old musicals with Mom was the best. My parents were amazed that I could play by ear. I could pretty much pick out any tune that was familiar to me. I took lessons for a while, but when it wasn't easy any longer I quit. I did pick it up again, but not until I was fortysix. Now I can play Fur Elise. It may not sound pretty, but I hit all the notes and it makes me happy and it gives me peace and my beautiful mother from the pictures is with me when I play. My mother's name is Lucille. She hated her name.

Dancing! I loved dancing. However, not just any dance class would do. It had to be ballet. Ballet was beautiful, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Whenever there was a ballet on PBS I was mesmerized. The ballerinas were so beautiful and graceful. Yes, ballet was for me. That was what I wanted to do. It was perfect for me, because I was painfully shy. Although I loved to sing on my own, I hated to sing in front of a crowd. Ballet was still musical and for some reason I wasn't afraid to express myself with my feet. Lessons began when I was eleven and I continued through highschool. I auditioned for the school of American Ballet when I was seventeen, danced Kitri's solo from Don Quixote in recitals and many other original ballets with my ballet school. I wasn't the best dancer, but I loved it. I was the best dancer on my high school dance team for quite a while, but when someone better came along I quit dancing. Technique in ballet is very difficult and was never easy for me but expression in dance was. Katrina, the girl who joined the team later, had better technique. It took me a long time to overcome my regret from quitting. It would be so nice if I could have known that desire and work can conquer a lack of natural ability. It also never occurred to me that I was much better suited for jazz or ballroom dancing. Who knows maybe by the time I am fifty I will pick that up. They must have senior competitions somewhere.

School was easy for me until it mattered. I was smart enough, just not focused enough. Math was treachery. Everything else was okay or I had a teacher I could talk into a good grade. I made it to college but that was the end of it. If I was interested in a subject the teacher had my attention, but otherwise it was pretty hopeless. If I knew then what I know now I would have done fine. But if I would have done fine, maybe I wouldn't be where I am now and where I am now is pretty good. I am not where I want to finish, but it is a great start. Every single day is a great start.

Signing off until....

Kimmy

Nervous Chatter

Where do I begin? It seems to me that to have something really important to say one needs to have done something really important or, at the very least, have had some remarkable something happen to them. That remarkable something is usually some horrible tragedy, sickness, abuse, or any number of remarkable somethings imaginable. I tried to think of a remarkable something, to make my story more interesting, but unfortunately, nothing truly horrible has ever happened to me, nothing out of the ordinary anyway. I think that is why my story, such as it is, may have some relevance. It is meant for the women, including me, who feel unremarkable, who think they don't have much to offer, or believe they have decided too late what they want to be when they grow up. It is for the women who have nurtured, loved and raised their children and wonder, "now what?". It is for the women who have suffered with depression, anxiety and a feeling of utter helplessness and hopelessness, for no good reason.


I don't pretend to have any answers except the ones I have found for myself. My goal with this silly little blogging experiment, is to encourage all to discover their own individual answers, and to never give up. As we stumble searching for those answers we learn so much. Don't be afraid to stumble. Failure must be experienced to enjoy true success.


I hope I didn't get too heavy. Wow, using "heavy" really shows my age, but I think that term is even older than I am. In case you are wondering, I am in my mid forties and yes, mid forties last until I am fifty. I have four beautiful children that include three girls who think they are grown, a wonderful fourteen year old boy, who is extremely spoiled, and a truly doting husband that I have been in, and out, of love with for twentyfive years. I have to say in and out because lets face it, marriage is the hardest thing anyone can do but it is much more than worth the effort.


If there happens to be a reader out there for The Kimmy Files you, and I, will get to know me much better.

Signing off until...

Kimmy