Some days are like that.
So up and down, roller-coasteresque that you spend the whole day just
trying to figure out if you are headed into or headed out of danger. Not the kind of danger where your life
depends on the next decision, but more the kind that eats away at your
sanity. The kind that feels like being
nibbled to death by ducks. And on
those days I tend to ponder “Is this what I signed on for? Is this what I wanted?” It’s really easy to forget why I started down
this path in the first place.
I just read a book in
which a character asks “I must know; As a child is this the woman you dreamed
of becoming?” In short. No.
Lately I’m kind of tired of being me.
What no one ever explained is how the children, husband,
marriage, job, career you wanted with every fiber of your whole being is also
the same thing on any other given day that feels like the exactly one thing
holding you back from your true pursuit of happiness.
The first time I felt this way I was scared out of my
mind. I had a brand new baby and I
realized that, try as I might, I was not going to shower alone for a very, very
long time and certainly not on any daily, or even planned and reliable basis. And you know, I felt like the world’s worst
human being for about ten crap minutes, and then called someone I trusted and
after they stopped laughing at me, and I stopped crying, they explained the
sheer truth of it all. “Mama, you are
going to hate them sometimes. And in the
next minute love them just as much.
You’re just scared.”
This has been such a life-saving piece of advice and at the
time, I didn’t realize both home important, and how hard to share, that little
nugget is. It’s takes serious courage to
tell someone you don’t always want what you have but have chosen to ride the
ride through all of its stops. It takes
courage to admit that sometimes you don’t feel all unicorns and roses about
your spouse. That your children have not
been making you shoot out shiny rainbows and stars lately. That your job, your responsibilities, your
health care regime, or your ugly-ass shoes are making your soul cry little
tears of purple poison.
Today, as I drove in the rain, I had a film run through my
head. I remember driving these same
roads in my early twenties, planning the renovation on the gorgeous farm-house
I wanted to buy and envisioning the ducks that would bob gracefully on my
future pond. I envisioned wine-laden
dinner parties on the patio facing the orchard.
My guest list included people I could not imagine my life without. All things were possible because I was young
and idealistic. Down to a detail, the
whole scene came about differently. My
life does not include this gorgeous house, nary a duck to be seen, and the
orchard has kindly requested I stop bringing wine when I pick apples in the fall,
so, well… there you go.
The planned guests at my party have all moved on in new and
different directions. Some to other
locations, some to other jobs, some to a different spouse, some to other
spiritual planes. I miss them. I miss who I was with them. And with sadness, today, I realized that I
miss dreaming.
Is it just my
age? Is it another unspoken reality that
at some point you stop dreaming? Or that you realize that these things are
likely only dreams of what could be on any other day under different
circumstances? I need the updated version of the rule book
that explains these things, for otherwise I think it is only me that feels this
way. And I worry that I missed the
secret formula that makes things come ‘round right.
So today, I put this out into the universe because I’m a
little betwixt and between. I need a
good cup of coffee, a good cry, some decent meditation, and some good advice to
start me on the next steep learning curve.
I’m not asking for validation of the life I’m living, because on any
other day I know that this is not too shabby, and everything is only
temporary. I just need to know that
somewhere out there you are going through this too, or have been through this,
or are afraid this is the territory you are headed into as well. I’m looking for that kindred “I’ve been
there sister, and it’s ugly, but here’s how you get through it…”
So please, bring your bottle of wine to my imaginary farm
table and let’s sit under my imaginary stars and watch imaginary
fireflies. Lay your wisdom on me. And I will thank you with real, and deep
gratitude.
