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.
