I’ve been stuck at a crossroads for so long that I’m starting to think if I don’t get a move on, this intersection will soon be named after me. I’m no expert, but it doesn’t seem healthy to set up residence here.
Last year I wrote a lot about transition. I lived it, gave space for it, named it sacred. Transition became my point of return whenever I felt distracted or overwhelmed by the thought of our homeschool road coming to an end, or the idea of Emily leaving home. I became an expert at allowing for change. Transition was my safety net and I fell into her supportive arms again and again. But now we’re on the other side and I look in the mirror to find a woman I hardly recognize. I’ve been stuck here. I see a woman who no longer feels needed day to day; a woman who is filled with uncertainty as she plans a move to a home she’s yet to find, doing her Virgo best not to feel discouraged; a woman who is walking new territory as she watches her father move through the advanced stages of disease; a woman who loves people and life and has been viewed as the perfect Pollyanna, but lately she looks around and feels such deep grief for where we are as a people, as a species.
This woman in the mirror is a mystery to me, a mystery that on most days, I don’t feel like solving. Middle age. Empty nest. I’m not the first to be here and I won’t be the last.
Winter came late this year and as much as I’m a winter girl, I’m ready for its departure. I’m sure the depth of all that I expressed above is heightened by cabin fever. I’m craving sun on skin. Maybe you’re feeling it too.
Anyway. What a navel-gazing post. I can skip over this stuff in the small sharings on Instagram, but when I come here to scratch out what’s truly on my mind, it’s harder to gloss over. There’s a whole bunch of elephants in the room right now, and my hope is that by acknowledging them, I’ll quiet them. Skewed logic, I’m sure, but it’s worth a try. As for that unfamiliar woman in the mirror, the next time I see her I’ll say: Chin up, girl. Stay the course, keep the faith. And for the love of all that is holy, move on from the paralysis of the intersection. Do not live there. And whether it is thirty degrees or eighty, don’t wait another minute... let the warmth of the sun overwhelm your thirsty skin.