How Are you? Really?

Personal Essays 4 Minutes

I’ve always fantasized about being nuts. I don’t mean cat-lady- crazy or the kind that requires medicine, but the kind where people sort of leave you alone and don’t expect much from you–the kind of crazy where you’d never be asked to be room mother and den leader.  

I think it would be a blast to go through the carwash and roll my windows down during the drying cycle. I would love to wear tap shoes to the grocery store because the music in the Alberston’s is just so good for that.  I long to garden in my husband’s old oxford dress shirt and work the dirt until the sun dips down below the treetops. Then I’d go inside and set an elaborate table with fresh greens from the garden, gold ringed china bowls, oversized silver soup spoons, tapered candles, and monogrammed linens. For dinner I’d offer my loved ones a box Cheerios and gallon of milk because – I love the garden and I love a beautiful table but I hate to cook.

Being crazy is like a secret craving I have and – sometimes I act on it.  I’ll pull on my dead uncle’s robe hoping it’ll bring me inspiration.  Some days, I’ll walk into my study wearing my nightgown and an old necklace that belonged to the woman whose life I’m writing and greet the characters in my book aloud.  “Welcome.  Welcome.  Good morning.  Please feel free to join me today.  I’m taking dictation if anyone’s interested.”  

I have a romantic vision of myself sitting behind my closed study door among sloppy stacks of well loved books and unpaid bills —my desk— cluttered by cups filled with varying amounts of cold coffee.  I’ll play the keyboard on my laptop with my eyes closed, swaying back and forth, taking  dictation from the voices in my head.  I’ll breathe deep meaningful breaths like I’m playing Mozart while smelling a bouquet of stargazer lilies, and the smile, the smile I feel flow across my face is one of satisfaction and delight. Completely immersed in the creative process, so prolific, so in tune with the voices in my head that the messy world around me disappears.  The best part of this fantasy is imagining the people on the other side of my closed study door- tiptoeing past, leaving me to my madness, and waiting in wonder to read the masterpiece the voices told me to type.

But that’s as far as I go on the tortured-artist crazy train and sadly, this is not the kind of crazy I’ve been feeling. It’s the kind of crazy where I don’t feel heard.

Lone-wolf-howling-at-the-moon-crazy.

“I feel like I don’t have a voice,” I tell my husband.  

It’s not a new feeling. I am the fifth of seven children after all.  At least once a day, in my early life,  I was asked this question:  “Which one are you?”  It could be posed by anyone from my brother’s best friend to the newspaper delivery boy, the pediatrician or the principal at our school.  My response varied based on who they already knew in my family.  

I am the the fifth child.  

I am the third daughter.   

I am the three years older than the baby.

I am not the funniest or the smartest.

I am not the favorite child, although I do share a room with her. 

“I am Claire,” was rarely my answer.  My father, simply called me ‘five’.  And this–this no-name nickname made me feel special.  

As I prepared for this reading, of course I re-read the event description- the one I helped write. It says:  

Life is impossible to erase. What has made us? What does it mean to grow old, get older, embrace boldness, wrestle with regret, become a real woman and finally face the end of our lives.

And I thought, “What do I know?”

Can I possibly answer these questions in a thousand words? I tried.  I sat for days at my keyboard, waiting for the story to come.  I wrote nothing and then I’d write something I didn’t like.  I dug in my old journals- looking  for the answers or some lone sentence I could spin into a short story.  I even tried a technique a friend shared with me called 55 for 5 where you reduce the very thing you want to one sentence and write it 55 times for 5 consecutive days.  “I love what I’m writing.  I love what I’m writing.  I love what I’m writing.”  On day one I remind myself of Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

“I love what I’m writing, I love what I’m writing.”  Day two I wonder, “Did Erma Bombeck have to do things like this?”  

I’m sure, like me, there were times in her life when she couldn’t get the words out fast enough and times, like the time I’d been having, when it felt like I was writing on a t-shirt and the words that come out aren’t fully formed and there’s just no flow.  

Is this so crazy?  Or is it what has made me?  What it means to grow old, get older, embrace boldness, wrestle with regret, become a real woman, and finally face the end of my life?

Here’s what I do know:

  1. I am Claire, being myself (crazy as it may feel) is what makes me. 
  2. The older I get – the more personal and necessary my writing becomes.  Writing clears my mind and  I can’t hear my own voice until my head is clear.  
  3. Embracing boldness means writing (and reading) the very personal and If I don’t do it -I will regret it.
  4. I know that real women follow their hearts and this can sometimes look crazy.
  5. As for the end of my life…I hope to face the next 50 years of it saying this, “I really do love what I’m writing.” 
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Published by 1clairebateman

My name says it all-- Claire means clear. Since I was a kid, I'd have to write things down to see them clearly. Not much has changed since then except that I used to write in a journal marked privé (that means private in French) now I write for the world to see.

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25 thoughts on “How Are you? Really?”

  1. Bravo 👏 for getting started on this. What a gift it is for your self and the world. I laughed out loud and felt like I was looking at you walking in the garden or looking at the old cups of coffee in your office. I just love it. The name username looks like 1clairebateman, 5clairebateman would be a great username too!
    Thanks for sharing…. can’t wait to read more. I love you!!

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  2. Love it Claire.

    I’m so glad that Mom and Dad had more after me. You are brilliant little sister and gratefully will always have me to aspire to when it comes to chasing crazy😜

    You are an incredible writer, loving mother and adored little sister.

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  3. I love reading whatever you write so thank you for sharing. I don’t follow any blogs so this would be my first.
    It made me smile to imagine you greeting your characters and welcoming dictations.
    I wanna be crazy like you when I grow up.
    Emma and Robert love your books and always look for their names in Santa’s list :). I have been meaning to tell you and keep forgetting.
    Love you
    Tati

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  4. Rest assured, you are well on your way to being just as crazy as I am!!! I love hearing about Emma and Robert looking for their names on Santa’s list. Of course theirs would be there. Be sure to hit ‘follow’ on my blog. You’ll get a notice when I post something new. Love, C

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  5. I so love this, Claire. You’re always such a joy and always make me laugh and smile. It always amazes me when I find out how well my friends right or play an instrument or paint but writing is so very personal and I love it. Thank you for sharing. Much love, Mark

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  8. I’m signed up. Love you & your awesome words that seem to come at the perfect time for this girl.
    Thanks for being so beautifully direct in your funny, Claire-way…..can’t wait to read more 🙂

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  9. What lovely thoughts! I could see myself in the old shirt and digging in the dirt in my garden (if I had one!!). What a gift you have–so happy I could experience it!!

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  10. I’ve reread this several times. You continue to be an inspiration to me. I’m so glad I’ve been lucky enough to find you
    Keep blogging. I love them and you

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  11. Loved reading about you Claire, Alise told me that you are related to the Pavy family and I was looking something up about my Doctor at Oschners from the middle 70’s and came across the story attached to his family. She said that you have written a book about what I am very interested in and I cannot find it to read. Has it already come out? If so, Where can I find it? Anyway, You are really something my smart “crazy” friend. I remember seeing at least one of your books for children and loved it.
    Please let me know if you are ready or eager to discuss this. It was such a wonderful treat to see you and Caroline at the Cathedral and Andre is still in our prayers. I would love an update about him so much.
    Love you, Sally

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  12. You are a very talented writer Claire. Enjoy it, as I am thoroughly impressed with your work. Don’t ever stop chasing greatness, it suits you.

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  15. You are my favorite “wonder”. I wonder how you open your mind and heart to others by sharing yourself. I must have some sort of govenor on my feelings because I can’t get too deep into me.
    Love you. Love your writing . ❤️

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  16. Claire, Miriam let me know about your blog — I’m not on FB — so I am beholden to her (in addition to literally saving my life) for sending me a way to sign up for your mental musings. I’m unable to do a deep dive into my own without becoming completely agoraphobic.

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