The Universe has been speaking to me this weekend, and I don’t think I like what it’s telling me. Not only that, it appears to be coming at me through a cosmic bullhorn, loud and clear. I guess nobody ever likes what The Universe has to say, huh? I mean, if you can’t figure something out for yourself and The Universe actually has to intervene, it must be pretty stinking bad.
By now you know that I’m afflicted with a sickness that involves constant movement and mental activity, even to the point of complete exhaustion and self-inflicted immune system shutdown. I tend to procrastinate just long enough that I am required to work straight through to madness, until I experience the emotional blue screen of death. And yet I continue to be suprised. To the average onlooker this appears to be insanity – repeating my actions and expecting a different result. But to those who don’t see my procrastination, it just appears as if I’m trying to do everything and be everything to everyone. That’s really not it, guys. I swear.
I’m really much more self-absorbed than that.
All I’m trying to do is figure out what it is that I want. That’s all. And this weekend several different people, none of whom know each other, told me (in varying degrees of directness) that I need to figure out what it is that I WANT. Well, okay – alrighty then. So why is that so damn hard?
I’m sure it’s because I don’t want to pick. I’m sure it’s because I’m so very talented. I’m sure it’s because I want ALL of the things that I want, and I want to be the one to do them all myself. All of them.
It couldn’t be because I’m afraid.
See, there are lots of things that are changing. My daily life and my mind are morphing at breakneck speed. My kids are maturing, and relate to me differently than they did just a few months ago. My job is evolving, in a good way. My body is freaking out on me, in a bad way (let’s not even go there). I care about things I never cared about before. My friendships are changing. My interests are not what they once were. My confidence is waning in some areas, expanding in others. My perspectives on pretty heavy subjects are being enriched. I’m growing.
And I just can’t do that. He’s been here every other time. I remember the day I wanted out of my financial job and contemplated law school, and he was there. He said, “You can do this. You can be a lawyer if you want to. Is that what you want?” And I did. I wanted it. I remember being half way through law school, and realizing that it was hard – harder than I thought. I was not one of those people who was naturally smart. I didn’t always “get it.” I had to work quite hard. I remember the day I sat on the floor and cried, and told him that I had made a huge mistake. He was there, and he didn’t mince words. I thought he was coming in to scoop me off the floor, but he didn’t. He looked at me and he said, “If it was easy, everyone would do it. You can do it – if you really want to.” And suddently, I did. And then I remember the day we sat parked in our car on a rainy weekend, looking out at the water. I remember when he said he wanted to start a family.
I cried, because I didn’t know what I wanted. I was so gripped by fear, that it came out as anger. I remember being so very afraid. And I remember how he yelled, “I will be there, if you want to! I want to!” And I remember the silence that fell over us, as I cried, and he stared. And I remember hearing the rain, and thinking about how he always knew what he wanted. And then I remember not being scared any more.
So here I am, trying to figure out what I want, but he’s not here. I’m stretching and growing without him. I’m getting over fears without him, and this time, he’s not here. What will happen if he comes back and I’ve changed? What will happen if HE has changed? What if he comes back and I don’t need him to say it anymore? What if I don’t need him to say, “You can do it, if you want to?”
Well, you can forget it. I’m going to stagnate, that much I’ve already decided. I’m going to un-grow. I’m going to just sit here in the mosquito-infested mud and pretend to be completely oblivious to the blood-sucking stings of change.
I will just refuse to learn something new, that’s all. I’ll just start caring about idiotic things again like the best waterproof mascara money can buy, and I will focus on that. I’ll be filled with righteous indignation at the condition of my unmanicured toes. I’ll worry about the number of tacos I can order without having to go incognito at the drive through. I will have angry outbursts at Elmo DVD’s and people who suggest that I need to change.
And I’ll just stay right here. Exactly the same. And I’ll wait.
Afterall, that’s what I want. Isn’t it?