I am sitting here in the quiet of my own space wondering what in all the world I should do with all the spare time I have. You know, the time that stretches in front of me into the horizon of the unknown. I hadn’t thought there would be this narrow and dark void I would be walking along, not now when things should be settled, peaceful, and maybe a bit brighter than they are. But here I am, staring down a future that feels uncertain and frequently terrifying.
No one knows how many hours they have to spend on this earth, how many breaths they will take, how many “I love you’s” they will say or hear in their lifetime. No one knows how slowly the sand will run through the hourglass of their life or how each grain will be spent. The best any of us can hope for, we will be present and gather the grains of our misspent youth as lessons for a richer and better-spent
journey during the remainder of our lives.
This year I lost a sibling and a friend. I am watching as another friend slides into depression while another is gripped by dementia. I am struggling with these losses. This year, I have had to reconcile myself to the idea that some of my longest-lasting friendships have changed, even fallen away. I miss them, and some of this is my fault as I push myself deeper into my own spaces and my own comfortable isolation. I recognize my reluctance to create human connections for what it is, knowing that each time I try to step out, I feel judged, rejected for my imperfections, and sometimes used. I realize my trust in humanity is diminished by my history. Unfortunately, my recent experience with stepping outside hasn’t changed my mind.
So, I sit here in the space I have created for myself. The silence stretches endlessly except for the music I play to suit my mood. What I have noticed;
- When people call these days, they want or need something from me.
- My email is filled with requests for money or sales pitches.
- Potential lovers are not interested in more than themselves and their instant gratification.
Where does that bring me? Despite having spent my entire adult life taking care of everyone around me, I will be the only one to take care of me as I walk the last part of my life. It is daunting; it is a painful realization. Some mornings, when I have had a rough night, when I have had nightmares or seizures, when I haven’t had enough sleep, I resent the hell out of this prospect. Some mornings, I wonder how I got here, and then I consider all the ingredients poured into me and think, well, perhaps this is my portion. After all, I don’t come free of scars, bruises, and demons I dance with; it isn’t easy to get through my walls, I don’t let many know I might have a weakness or be vulnerable.
A decade after my divorce, I find myself staring down that road and saying this wasn’t the plan.
Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. Twice in this decade, I thought I had found that person who would stay, walk beside me, and partner with me as an equal. I was wrong; in the end, they were there for what they could get for themselves. At the end of the day, I was always wrong. Ultimately, I learned that broken trust breaks something inside of us that isn’t easily repaired.
So, don’t mind me. I am trying to reconcile what I wished for and what I thought my life would be with the truth, the reality of where I am. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect any of it. I resent it and am trying to create something different, but first, I have to learn to accept there will be no one beside me, no one to soothe me on a bad day, no one to help me walk through pain, no one to drive me in the dark, no one to hold me when I cry, no one to ensure I get through a seizure. It might take a bit of time to accept a reality I wasn’t expecting, but like everything else, I will get there; I don’t have a choice.
It’s hard when our realities change. When creating new expectations for ourselves, we must shift how we see our world and ourselves. So don’t mind me; I am just over here getting my head straight.
I have not made New Year resolutions in decades. They are a form of self-flagellation in which I find little purpose and much to be afraid. What possesses any of us to sit down at the end of each year and make a list of all our ‘failures’ and then make a list of all we will do ‘better’? Really, are we demented? Or maybe we are simply defeatists at heart.
You see? Self-flagellation.
though, that I what I seek is something different than grace. It is more, that I don’t hate myself for all my mistakes, for the things I could have done differently, for the secrets I could have told and choose not to. I know that too frequently, I put myself in the way to be hurt as retribution for the wrong I believed I did. In retrospect, I didn’t deserve that, yet I did it anyway at great expense to an already savaged spirit.
Do you know sometimes you can go most of your adult life focused on the wrong things, working hard toward a future that in the end will not be what you planned or expected. Never mind as you sit and contemplate where you are and what you have done, your dreams have not been fulfilled. You can break yourself, physically and emotionally for that pot of gold at the end of that proverbial rainbow and find nothing but pyrite. You can give everything worthwhile up, sacrifice to the pantheon and what you will have in the end will be rooms filled with the chaff of broken dreams. In a world that values the trappings of success above nearly all forms of decency and compassion, far too many of us have fallen victim to the sales job. Now we are learning, there are no ‘do overs,’ for our failures and regrets.
our way through the maze of often terrifying new experiences? Many do, while some cling to what we know in an attempt to stave off the changes we see around us. The bombardment of information, especially social norms and expectations that may be significantly different from what we know is enough to make our heads spin and our hearts stutter to a standstill.
a close brush with our fragility, this lesson remains with us for the remainder of our years, we either become risk-averse or alternatively we become what is now known as adrenalin junkies. It is an important lesson to learn, our mortality put in perspective, our place in the world filtered down into more realistic terms, more digestible bites. Over time, there will be more masterclasses to embrace, more blows to our confidence and we will in most cases survive them to tell the stories to the next generation.
ambitions are focused. We are insulted by the very suggestion that we might not be ready, or all the Gods forbid we may not know all we need to know.
I know we have an infinite well of compassion, empathy and love at our disposal. We are bottomless, we are never tapped out. Not ever in our lifetimes do we run out of ‘good’.
