Future Life
With each man that I date and truly like I have a hard time saying goodbye. It is as though, for a moment, a window opens and I see the future we could have had together, if it had only been right. And even though it isn’t right it feels like it could have been good enough. And when we say goodbye I feel myself saying goodbye to that future as though I am being pulled backward through a long tunnel. I feel disoriented; much like Scrooge must have felt with the ghost of Christmas future.
It is as much the fear of what will come next, without that imagined future, as the sorrow in the parting that keeps me clinging to the shifting walls. Regardless of the reasons, they stretch beneath my grasping fingers and shake off my fingerprints. And that entire future just disappears. It will never exist.
The sadness of letting go settles over me every time. I don’t want to keep looking at futures that will never form. I want one of them to be real. I get attached to them as though they are.
The sadness lasts until I find a moment when letting go makes sense; when I see the world for the vast space that it is, filled with endless possibilities. I offer up my hurt and my hope and I wait for the world to make it right. Sometimes it takes days, sometimes it takes years. It depends on how much I believed in my invented future.
I like variety. I crave adventure. It is the feeling of moving forward that keeps me satisfied. I know these things about myself. They are true. And they are only part of the story.
As the weight of these goodbyes has begun to register, I see that a part of me longs for stability. I don’t like that my entire life is subject to the whims of the next week. I want a career.  A home.  A family. I assumed that if I built my career I would be happier than if I sat around waiting to find a good man. But my career is nowhere to be found, and I am still hoping to chance upon a home and family. It always felt pointless to chase after something that is never guaranteed. Despite my efforts, however, it turns out a career isn’t, either. And I think it is time for me to look for everything else.
I need to design my future life.
Print article | This entry was posted by Amy Confetti on September 8, 2011 at 2:37 pm, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site. |
about 12 years ago
Amy, I know you said that you would never read my comments anymore and I do not blame you for that. I read your comments as well as Jodi’s to see how things you are doing.
I am glad that you wrote this blog. I found out the hard way that none of the things I gather in this world matters.
You do not have to reply to my comment, or even read this but I wanted to let you know that you are a special lady and that you are loved.
It is up to you but if you want to spend a few minutes please read Ecclesiastes. Perhaps it may shed some light on what this world is all about.
Remember that you are special and that you are loved.
Finally please forgive me for my indiscretion. I never meant to hurt you.
Ecclesiastes 1
Everything Is Meaningless
1 The words of the Teacher,[a] son of David, king in Jerusalem:
2 “Meaningless! Meaningless!â€
says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.â€
3 What do people gain from all their labors
at which they toil under the sun?
4 Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
5 The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
7 All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
8 All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
9 What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there anything of which one can say,
“Look! This is something new�
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.
11 No one remembers the former generations,
and even those yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow them.