April 25, 1995.

I am thinking a lot about my children lately. I can't get them
out of my mind. I am also letting go of them slowly, but in a
healthy way. Yet it worries me. I get the feeling something
will happen to them and I fear I will not forgive myself if
something did. I've told myself that I have to make a determined
effort to ignore what other people say. People have been coming
up to me and saying that my children are ... they do not dare
come out and tell me that they are bad but they say things like:
they don't have enough supervision. They are not a good
influence on other children. They are not motivated enough.
They will not amount to anything. The more they say negative
things, the angrier I become yet the more I believe in them and
know they will succeed. I am beginning to change my attitude
toward them and have confidence in them though I constantly worry
about them. I look around at people I admire, people who through
the ages have been successes in life; I look at myself, and what
I admire, is the spunk we all had in common. I admire the
independant spirit, the critical thought, the spirit of adventure
and those are things that all my children have. There are things
I want to do in life, but I am ready to put them off until the
children are older. Nicolas and Matthieu are still too young for
me to devote myself to too many activities. It feels good to
have your priorities fall into place. I was thinking of studying
foreign affairs, but it will have to be put off yet another few
years. I have had my chance at life and although it hasn't been
all I had hoped for, it certainly has been far from dull and it's
had its exhilerating moments. I want them to know I support
their development, even if I can't be part of that development
full-time. For the moment, I can devote myself to my work, my
teaching, my ideas, my writing, even if it is mostly journal
writing. As I read back into the past, I see there are valuable
things I have set down on paper; things I have lived, I have
learned, I have explored. They are thoughts I believe are shared
by many women of my generation and perhaps even of women of past
generations. Maybe one day they will be of value to someone. I
can only hope so. This on going diary is finally my life's work.
It is something I have never given up on. I've worked on it for
over thirty years and it has merit, not only for me but for my
children and for theirs. I think it has value now already, that
it does have elements that could eventually lead to publication.
It's just that I don't yet have a subjective view of how it could
be done. There is a creative element missing. It's all there,
on paper but it hasn't come together. I had hoped that for my
fortieth birthday, something would be born but I've learned not
to establish artificial deadlines. If it hasn't happened, it is
because the timing is not yet right. Patience is an art I have
not yet mastered and I sometimes wonder if I ever will.

The past year has been a transitional one and I have to come to
grips with the fact that I can't do it all at the same time.
I've embarked on a new career, have studied abroad, have had my
first affair, short lived as it was. I've moved out on my own
for the first time in my life, have had to come to terms with not
living with my children, not living up to people's expectations.
I've seen my brother near the brink of death, seen a favorite
sister-in-law slowly die of cancer. I've explored love and am
still trying to come to terms with its moral, emotional, mental
and physical implications. I'm trying to meld all these aspects
in my life. I'm trying not to be so black and white. And I think
I am slowly, slowly succeeding. The voyage is far from over but
there are some days when I am moving ahead and fortunately, not
too many when I'm am backtracking. It's slightly encouraging.

A.C.


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