becoming {cory}

I am so happy in this series to introduce you to several wonderful women who share their personal reflections on becoming.

Cory is a lovely blogger who writes about her family and farm adventures at Lady Cordelia.

There was a time in my life in which there was nothing but time.  A long stretch of flat road.  No sign posts.   I was so sad then, and longing only for this: a family of my own.  A husband who would see the real me.  Sweet little children. 

Back in those days, I had little furniture.  I never cooked.  In fact, I didn’t eat much either.  I did a lot of yoga, went out with bad men who didn’t have a clue and drank my fair share of wine while waiting for them to approve of me. I even smoked, especially when a loser man would break up with me.  I cried A LOT.  It is always horrible to be dumped by a jerk.   In the long run, of course, you find it’s a bonus.  But in the short run, it’s like that Groucho Marx quote that Woody Allen made so famous:  “I'd never join a club that would allow a person like me to become a member.”  In other words, I wasn’t interested in nice men.  I liked men who wouldn’t budge. I had a somewhat unconscious and twisted strategy: if I could budge an unwilling man, I would be awesome.

Simply: one day I woke up and I was done with “The Unwilling.”  Really.  One day I woke up, after about 10 years of hard and deep work, and I went on a date with Brad.

And here we are. 

In today’s world I suppose my main challenges are (in no particular order):

1. Keeping up on laundry

2. Keeping the yard looking nice when there are too many animals in it.

And that’s pretty much it.   Yep, that’s it.  I am the person I longed to be.  When I think of “becoming” and how it applies to myself, I could say that I would like to become a better gardener.   Or the type of person that would be less attached to having a clean house.   You know, if I just had to force myself to come up with something.

See: I wake up to a snoring husband and little voices saying “Mama, can you read me Pippi Longstocking?”   

To my own sense of self, I’ve become.