Amounting to Something

My first job was washing dishes at a fancy trendy Italian restaurant. I ran away from the ritzy suburb of Larchmont New York at age 17 and was living in Providence Rhode Island. When I called home to tell my mother she shouted into the phone, You'll never amount to anything if you like washing dishes!

I guess I was supposed to amount to something. I still worry about this on a daily basis.

Am I allowed to enjoy washing dishes, teaching swimming, walking my dogs, reading and writing, doing laundry, making bread? Am I amounting to something yet? Have I earned my keep? Am I worthy of joining humanity? Have I made a meaningful contribution? Am I allowed to breathe air and take up space on Planet Earth? Am I worthy of love and friendship? Of being ALIVE?

My dogs say YES, and that's what counts. 

I was named after Emily Dickinson. When I asked my mother about it one day it she said, "Yes, I read her poems when I was suicidal and pregnant with you!" Grrrreeeat! I thought. What a legacy.

"She stayed in her room and wrote poems and nobody knew until until after she died. So stay in your room!" My sister loved to taunt me. I did stay in my room until the one day I hitched a ride out.

Since then I have not stayed in my room. I have danced in the street. I have built a life. And I still love to wash dishes. The feel of it, of being in water, soothes me. Water is the mother love medicine I never received but now give to myself, and to others.