I am afraid of the future so I spend a lot of time crying lately. I am in the midst of a divorce which I really think is probably the best option for two people who loved each other, had a beautiful son and have more of a friendship at the moment than anything else. I went out on my own and ended up back living in the house I’ve lived in for the last 10 years. A little space does wonders for a friendship and so does sleep.
But then I’m afraid, I don’t know where I want to live, what I want to do, how I want to do it. It’s hard to start a new life after 25 years of trying to be conventional when one is not really conventional. I hate the idea of a 9 to 5 job or even a part time job. Yes I know that makes me look very lazy, but it’s not really lazy it’s realistic. I was the queen of the job, I had so many jobs that there is a running joke at the holidays about which job I am on now. I can certainly get a job somewhere doing something, I’m kind of charming if I say so myself(although that is waning too if I’m honest) but could I keep the job? That is the question and not for nothing I think making art and writing about it is a job all on its own and that is a job I’ve been able to hold down. But even that seems to be a struggle lately. All I seem to be able to do at the moment is chase rainbows and that is what I always come back to when I’m planning.
I think I want to hit the wide open road and find myself in a place, making some art, finding an interesting way to make money and finding new adventures. My grandfather was a vagabond with a penchant for starting new businesses (which didn’t always succeed I might add). He basically stayed home in Brooklyn but traveled the world in his mind through his numerous attempts at business. I think I have inherited his vagabond spirit and penchant for not settling for the ordinary. He died living above a church with my grandmother basically in poverty. Maybe that is my fear that I will die living above a church basically in poverty.
My grandmother on the other hand didn’t mind the poverty, she had her love of needle arts and needed very little else to make her happy. I think I take after her too. So that leaves me where I am at the moment, dazed and confused, sad, and wondering how the heck I am going to live the rest of my life. If I settle down where I am I can make a life for myself near my son who I love more than anything in the world or can I set out as a vagabond with my art, writing about it and trying to find a life that I love. I have to be honest and the second option sounds like the option, but then there is my son. I worry that my wanderlust will leave him alone and worried about me all the time. Lately my inability to stay put has made him worry quite a bit, which is how I ended up home again. So as I pare down my life( and every morning I see more and more to pare) I get a little anxious and sad and don’t know how I get to the land of my dreams from here.
I am appreciating my son and soon to be ex more than I have in years. I hope it shows that although I’m sure this isn’t the life I want to live I still appreciate the stability and love they have given me. Perhaps I am guilty of not appreciating that stability and love earlier, and not realizing that the problem wasn’t really them but living the wrong life for me. I guess after all these years it’s time to admit I’m just a vagabond at heart, I get bored easily, I get stuck easily and I simply don’t know how to take the first step to move forward and leave the stability(or more honestly, my son) behind.
My friend Emily who is the best friend I have ever had in my life advised me that I should become a backpacker and act like a teenager which really had a resonance for me since Emily knows me better than anyone I have ever known. My uncle invited me to visit him in New Mexico which I simply cannot get out of my head, my relatives are all over downstate NY and I keep hearing Italy everywhere I go and I’ve had a secret dream about Italy since the Andrea Bocelli days. I’m dreaming of the wanderlust so perhaps it is time to clean up my act here and then set out to live the life I’ve imagined and be brave enough to believe it will be a dream instead of a nightmare.
I guess for the next couple of months while I figure it out I can travel local and see what my dream looks like without the airplane and the backpack. I’m resurrecting this blog to chronicle my journey. And yes I realize I am writing about myself again, but I figure I am not the only woman going through this at the moment and perhaps if it helps one person male or female look at their own inauthentic life it will be worth it. I think so many of us live our lives in quiet desperation hoping we can find the answer that works for us. Hopefully now I am really ready to find some other interesting people to write about while on my travels.