I frequently look down, expecting to see shards and bits and pieces of me that have fallen to the ground – physical proof that I am broken. Like defective pottery cast aside, I expect the pieces to lie at my feet.
I am 48, yet I own no home.
I am 48, yet never have I heard the words “Will you marry me?”
I am 48, yet no letters appear after my name on my business cards.. like PHD or MD or PA or DMD. Not even BP!..which might not be such a bad idea!
I am 48, yet no kids call for me in the middle of the night because they have had a bad dream.
I have not fit in to what our society expects one to do now have I? I am most certainly not the “norm”.
I have never fit into neat little columns titled “The Way It Is Supposed To Be”. But OH how I want to. Oh how I long to “be like everybody else”.
What bothers me the most is that I have never been anybody’s wife. It was so easy to happen I guess. Staying in too many long relationships that should have ended, I did the best I could. I didn’t know. If someone would have told me how fast time would move? Well, then I might have acted differently. Or perhaps, I would have not.
I am not a person who regrets. I think wishing I had made different choices in the past is a waste of energy. So this writing is a bit of a contradiction.
If you read my blog, you know that I am a positive (often nauseatingly so) person. But this “broken” thing? Well, it has taken me to my knees of late.
Call it mid life or call it lonely but whatever it is, it is jumping up and down wildly, trying to get my attention.