For a long time now, I have felt as though I’ve been in limbo.
Imagine a crossroads, dusty and forlorn, on a lonely stretch of deserted gravel road. A middle-aged, redheaded woman sits on a stack of boxes, staring off into space, absently tucking flyaway hairs behind her ears, and sighing at nothing in particular. The sun sits midway through the afternoon sky, warming her back, and she stands, wanders up to the dented stop sign, looks left, looks right, turns back & sits down again.
For what, you might ask?
Oh, for the fulfilment of a promise, for the chance to change her circumstances, for the liberation of knowing that she’s successfully raised the last of her children to an independent, adult stage of life, & she can make decisions now, solely based on what’s best for her, and no one else.
I love my children. I love that I was given the opportunity to raise them, to love them, to nurture their growth into responsible, independent adults.
But, every large decision I’ve made in my life since March 13, 1991, has been influenced heavily by “what’s best for the child/children”, not just for me.
And for the last few years, I’ve felt as though there was this staticky, dusty place in the back of my brain, where that woman sits at the crossroads, waiting for the next stage. Waiting for “what comes next”.
Men have come and gone from my life, for whatever reasons they felt were valid at the time. Only 1 said he was in it for the long haul; but even he has failed to actually appear in person to begin this life he says he longs for. All the rest, whether they originally said they were “there for me” or were just in it for the moment, or nostalgia, or just wanted the temporary convenience of another warm body nearby, ended up walking away.
I’m tired of being a “temporary fix”. I’m weary down to my bones of waiting for this elusive “luv” to show up. I’m not content, anymore, to be someone’s “right now”.
I want more. I want to go, get out, move and shake and rattle some cages. I want something to change.
And I want to stop being that woman at the crossroads, waiting for…
1 more year… Then…watch me.
Watch me fuck shit up; shake a few trees to see the residents fly out, screeching about being dislodged from their comfortable perches; watch me change my little corner of the world as I rise up from that stack of boxes, kick them into the ditch, and pick a direction to
Just. Start. Walking.
Then. Watch me. As I walk away, & start my own life.
As difficult as it will be to start over at the middle age of 47 (as I will be this time next year), I will do it.
Because I’m tired of limbo.
Tired of waiting for change to swoop me up & deliver me someplace else.
Tired of being left by the side of the road when I’m no longer “convenient”.
It’s my turn.