That is how long I can potentially be on this Earth. That is if I live to my 90’s like both of my grandmothers.
50 long years.
I don’t know how I am going to do it.
To fill up all those years.
I went from being a person with her life planned out to being a person who is merely existing.
I am obviously still here for a reason.
And I want to see my daughter grow up and meet my grandchildren and maybe even my great-grandchildren.
My daughter (age 3) told me that she is going to be a mother when she grows up and that she is going to have four children.
So I guess that means for every theatrical temper tantrum I have to deal with, she will get it back times four.
Karma can be a beautiful thing.
But it is all going to be delightful as long as my daughter gets an education first.
People used to ask me why I was bothering with a second degree because I was married to a lawyer. I always said that if something should- God forbid- happen to Bryon, I need to be able to support myself and my family.
I used to say that but I never thought it would actually be my reality.
But here I am. Surviving? Existing? Keeping my head above water? Waiting to live again?
Without direction. Lost. Anxious.
Bryon is not here to solve all my problems. He is not here to tell me that everything is going to be okay.
No idea what the future holds.
I have lost my faith. In God. In the Universe.
The future feels bleak and empty.
Scared to be lonely.
Scared to let someone else in.
Scared that I will be unhappy.
Scared that I won’t be able enough for my daughter.
Scared that I will always be sad.
Scared that I won’t make the best of my remaining years.
This is my life now.
For the next 50 long years.
One thought on “50 long years”
Oh wow. Yes, it is scary when plans fail. Fail doesn’t feel like the right word but I’m not sure what the right word is. This post tugs at my heart. 💕