(Part of my book is writing I did before I got divorced. This is one of those chapters.)
I see life slipping by. I want to travel so much. It just seems like we are hanging on by our fingernails. He doesn’t feel it. If he has a TV, recliner, nasty food, coonhounds, cows and me; he’s happy.
I can’t help but think about the future when I run. The country road stretches before me. I move my arms and try to maintain some form. Although I’m passing cows in fields, shadowy images of skyscrapers, joggers, beautiful fountains and bridges are superimposed on reality. It’s always with me when I run, the vision, the other me, running in Central Park.
Reality is beef cows, weeds, and isolation. I know it sounds crazy. I think I’ve lost it sometimes. Does anyone else do this? Is it normal? Am I a bad person?
I’ve done the marriage thing, the live in the country thing. I’m ready for something else. How do people keep on keeping on? Have they seen the world? Are they not curious? It drives me crazy.
I’m back to this thought. A decision made when I was 19 years old has to impact my entire life? Has to hamper me and hold me down? Has to limit my world and my opportunity? My friends and the life I want?
I’m able to shove this down during the school day because I’m busy and the minutiae of teaching, cooking, cleaning, chauffeuring, cheering, keep me too busy to ponder.
It’s the worst when I travel and see other choices, other lifestyles. I can’t help it. I think, wow what if I could live here? What would it be like? I’m not very realistic except for my NYC dream. That one I could almost see as I squint my mind’s eye to an impossible future.
I’m stuck but not really. I’m choosing to be stuck. It is heartbreaking. I don’t know how to deal. Shoving it down is not good. Deal with it. Stop thinking of what might have been and make the most of what is.