I cannot remember the child that I was. I have few photographs or childhood items to remind me. As time has gone by, I (and my parents) have got rid of the things that described and/or defined me.
I have lost so many abilities that the hobbies which used to define me to myself have evapourated and, with them, my self-image. I no longer know who I am.
I used to be a sporty loner. Artistic and creative. I would write and write. My mind was brim full with ideas, characters and worlds. Now my mind struggles to hold how I am feeling today, both emotionally and physically. My world has shrunk both with respect to possibilities and to memories. I keep thinking to myself that this must be how that little old lady in the nursing home must feel. I am 43.
In the last few days, many many other items that reminded me of my university-student self (who I also cannot remember without the items) have become landfill. Not even handed on to others via charity shops or eBay. I am become landfill, it seems. And, yes, we all become dust eventually and I do not believe in an afterlife of any kind so I keep finding myself wondering, what is/was the point? Why did I strive to achieve? My accomplishments are now landfill along with my BSc and MSc thesis printouts. I have managed to save a few items to remind myself and some writings/projects that I will scan (like the diaries I wrote when we lived in the US (.PDF) for 9 months when I was 5 → 6). Why do I bother to scan/save them? Nobody else will find them interesting. I am not going to be changing the world at all by saving them or by anything else I do.
I still love to learn. I love teaching myself new knitting skills via downloaded PDFs and watching online videos. I used to want to share that knowledge, maybe even by making videos myself of how I knit.
I used to love to trampoline, teaching that as well. I would cycle, walk and swim. The world around me was to be explored and *seen*.
I now know that I have no right to want to leave something behind as a legacy. I have nothing that anyone will want, once I am gone. I will only be missed by my nearest and dearest and a few of you out there that read my journal, although fewer and fewer of you do, it seems. Maybe because I am becoming more and more inward-looking. Maybe because that is all that I see, these days, apart from four walls, hubby and the cats. I am also becoming more of the opinion that there is little or no point to it all.
Gah - this has become maudlin and rambling. I should probably just delete it and not hit "post" but I am nothing if not completist and would rather this be out there and readable than a *total* waste of my time at the keyboard…
Subject line / title note: "am losing" or "have lost"