Please welcome Jaime Samms, our Friends Friday blogger for today! I’m looking forward to your post, Jaime!
I was sitting tonight, my computer humming, the evening darkening outside my picture window, dinner settling in my belly, trying to decide if I should write or paint my nails and contemplate what to put in this blog post.
As I chose a nail colour, (you’re not surprised, are you? I mean…one must look good at work, even if the commute is only a short, bunny-slippered shuffle away), I noticed that the box of nail enamel has morphed over the past year from a refined and sophisticated pallet of pinks and creams (government job. What can I say) to bright blues and purples, and even a jar of banana yellow. Odd.
I rifled through and landed on my favourite: a dark blue-gray that isn’t quite serious enough to be black, but definitely, unmistakably not conventional. I was about to blame this strange shift of colour pallet on my eleven-yr-old daughter when I realized: I bought every single one of those colours. (except the yellow. That was definitely her)
So…why? What changed? I still have the government job. Granted, it is a contract job and I’m not currently working it, but I can say, without doubt, that I wouldn’t hesitate to wear this same nail colour there. After all, last contract, I had pink and purple streaks in my hair.
It isn’t the kids. I mean, I’ve had them an awful long time. Same goes for the husband. Same one I’ve had almost fifteen years. So why the purple hair and near-black nails? Why the fourteen hole Doc Martins and the swing in my step?
Then it hit me. This year, I came out. I stopped pretending my writing career was something to keep under wraps, to not mention. I decided, if people don’t like what I write, if they have an issue with it, too damn bad. If the family who love me are going to freak out because I write about men falling in love and having sex, well, let them. They’re allowed. I’m tired of feeling like I have to apologize for it.
So now most of my family has asked for my website address, to see what I write, and I’ve handed it out. Haven’t heard word one back from any of them, and you know what? It doesn’t matter. I have found the thing that makes my heart sing and my soul hum. I know I’m good at it. It makes me happy.
And that’s just the thing. It makes me happy. I’m not really in it for any other reason. I’m not in my life to make other people happy. That isn’t my job. They can be as unhappy as all get out that their little sister/friend/daughter/fellow-dance-mom writes gay erotica, and guess what? Don’t care! Let it be their cross to bear, if they feel they need one.
I’ve got my steel gray nail polish and my blue hair (yes, it’s blue this year) and my Docs, my royalty check, and I’m all right :D
Oh, and also? It’s my birthday today, and if this is what a mid-life crisis looks like? Bring it the heck on! I’m all in. I think a tattoo is in order, yes?
Lots of people wake up and realize their life isn’t at a place they expected. What about you? Ever have that epiphany telling you things had changed while you were distracted? For the Better? Not so much for the better?
For more from Jaime check out her website.