Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while are most likely aware that I have a wee bit of an identity problem. It manifests itself in humourous ways, like my dad calling me by my mom’s name and my mom calling me by my dad’s name (constantly). It also manifests in more serious ways, like people absolutely not noticing my presence (which happens more often then you would think). But I am learning to overcome these things and to embrace my (invisible) self.

I am finally learning that it is only myself that I truly need to please. And, of course, it is nice if I occasionally please quanta too… maybe. I am wearing colours I like, even if they are light and not the latest style. I also prefer petite jewelry, even though everyone else seems to like chunky stuff these days. (Chandelier earrings look awful on me, I think. And I don’t like them anyway.) And most importantly, I am working hard to discover who I am inside through shadow work, meditation, Tarot and astrology – methods that others may find “flaky”, but they work well for me.

So, when people actually see me and get my name right, they are seeing the real me that I am slowly and painstakingly uncovering.

For some reason I derive a great deal of comfort from sitting near my books. Maybe it is because I am alone and in a contemplative mood, or maybe it is just because I find the accumulated wisdom soothing.

In contrast, when I sit at my pretty little writing desk I usually feel quite uncomfortable. Perhaps it is because it is in a corner of our large dinning room (in our poorly designed apartment), or perhaps I have unconsciously attached too many of my fears about writing to it.

Ultimately, when we move again, I would like to have a room of my own, to paraphrase Virginia Woolf. It would be a quiet place where my writing desk could be in close proximity to my books, as well as a place where my cross stitch supplies and Tarot cards could co-mingle freely. In other words, it would be a room in which I could nurture my soul.

Until then, I learn to adjust and love my writing desk anyway.

I’ve been writing a lot about material things and personal identity lately. Looking back over these entries, I am a little surprised and confused. I really don’t identify myself with the things I own or the things I wear (expect maybe with the exception of my ever-growing library of books). So, if this is the case, why am I always excited by a present, or that thought of buying myself a treat? And why do I continually cruse eBay, looking for “it”. Do I need more discipline or to learn to detach myself from the material world (impossible when working in retail). Or, do I need to learn to be less critical of myself. Surely there is very little wrong with indulging myself (responsibility) once in a while.

All things in moderation, right?

I think that finding one’s own style, whether it be in fashion or home decor, can be a very difficult thing. We are limited by the items that are available in stores, and also by the perceptions attached to specific styles. For example, just because I am drawn to modern interpretations of Victorian style, as well as classical music, doesn’t mean I am old fashioned or stodgy. And just because I can’t stand country styles that doesn’t mean that I don’t treasure a simple home life.

I often find myself bending, as it were, to fit what I find in stores. I wear clothes that aren’t quite me, buy gifts that aren’t really right, and (most especially) surround myself with scents that just seem a little wrong. Sometimes I wish I could get things that are just right for me. Clothes that flow and fit my shape, and the perfect blend of vanilla scent.

I want to be me, but I sometimes find it difficult to discover what “me” is when none of the items I buy seem right. Maybe I should stop shopping? 😉

When one is trying to explore a more simple life, working in a retail store can be very difficult. Temptation abounds in the form of beautiful stationary, alluring bath products, and very yummy chocolate.

I will freely admit that I am failing miserably at adopting the principles of Simple Living. I like my large book collection and my small collection of useless knick-knacks. I am, however, doing well at not starting other collections, as tempting as those cute little things are. 🙂 I think making my bed every morning is nice, even if it does take time. And, conversely, I just don’t have time to cook a meal from scratch everyday, so I occasionally use convenience foods.

My life is not simple, no matter how hard I work to make it that way. (Maybe that’s why it isn’t simple.) Life is complicated–full of emotions and temptations (I swear I hear a pretty box of note cards calling my name!!), and plans being unexpectedly laid to waste. I think it is more important for me to find peace and simplicity in the midst of the daily madness, than to artificially create a peaceful environment that makes it difficult to cope with the real world.

I’ve been thinking a little bit more about this whole physiotherapy and healing experience I am currently going through. I am actually quite afraid of the whole thing. I have been this damaged person for so long that the physical pain has helped to shape my personality. I wonder how my personality will change when the pain begins to go away. Will I become more pleasant and open?

I am also afraid of the expectations that will be placed on me by others as I get better. Right now, I do so much and work so hard, but I am limited by my pain. As the pain goes away, will everyone expect me to work even harder and do even more? What if I am not capable of meeting these new expectations?

All in all, though, I am still very excited about the whole process. I am learning to pay attention to my body and to work with it in better ways.