Catching up
Feeling like I am living through a double rug pull this morning. After five months of wandering while I wait for clarity on direction for my next evolution in life, I decide to scout potentials for my river dreams from my current camp site and the Texas text streams begin the very night of my arrival. No acknowledgement of anything leading up to my decision. Just a barrage of guilt tugs to pick up where I left off. The second rug pulled out from under my feet is Hubs sounding like my five months survey work at the farm never happened. The FIL is still on the sidelines, conducting business as usual from a remote location. I find myself wondering about the "5 month" mark. Is that just coincidence or are we riding a five month cycle?
"I'm just trying to catch up with you" is a phrase I've heard from Hubs so many times over the past 37 years that it sounds too normal for thought. Yesterday I heard the phrase in his defense from a third party from whom the phrase sounded downright unnatural. I've been obsessing about it ever since. It is meshing with the sense of competition I constantly feel from Hubs and the in-laws. In my last round of attempts to sort that snotty knot, I called it, "Trophy Conditioning."
I don't know if I never was a competitive soul or if my competitive drives were beaten out of me during my childhood at the bottom of the cultural food chain, but when the competition starts, I beat it to the sidelines before some athletically primed soul can brutally knock me off the court. Someone like the stud I married who was athletically conditioned enough to get through college on athletic scholarships.
In the current rendition, my chronically busy man seems to be looking up from his busy agenda every five months or so and seeing my months of work like something which happened over night. Well, babe, time funs when you are having fly. . . I then need to put my life on hold while he catches up. Why? Can't it be okay that I am still living a life while you are busy being busy? Trust can work wonders.
I still don't trust the co-owner politics on the farm project. It still feels like anything we get going there will have the rug pulled out from under it at random-to-us moments. If Hubs and I can even get on the same sheet of music there. This morning I still feel like my access to the inner circle is still blocked by (?)Huntington's Disease Survivor Syndrome. I got the phrase from the Huntington's convention we attended in Chicago.
Dunno. . . Sorting. . .
Replies
is your journey going to be a published book? it could be. i think it should be. sorry, at times, many, i think i don't know what you are talking about in your journals and i wonder what's going on? then i look at myself and my very recurrent theme is to one day (sooner than later) wander off to be a hobo or something. travel around and camp out with a fire and roasted dead squirils for supper; an old partly burned blown out tire as my pillow. in five or so months what would my wife say? perhaps she already says it. but you seem to be accumulating much knowledge and something i don't know the word for. i'm hoping you will tell me. you probably have and i probably missed it. i on the other hand, would be letting it all slip by. that i suppose is my wonder about you. and can this be connected to the "issues" so many of us on this site seem to have? i admire you for your journey. anyway. anyway i guess...
trust that you put in the time and work to reach a vision you have had for that land since you started seeing it as a solution for todays needs. I think I first heard you talk about it over ten years ago. before I heard about your interest in the confluence which I think was a by product of your wish to get a degree from a foreign country/south America in a foreign language/Spanish. even if my time line is wrong I think you should think of your time pursuing your interest now as giving hubs his catch-up time. you don't need to be competitive, leave that to him. you do need to live a life that makes sense for you.
Thanks, ET. For me the writing is the easy part. The reading, re-writes and editing required for publication are PTSD minefields for me. If that scattered flock of ifs ever come into alignment, my editorial staff will need to include a trained therapist to help keep me functional. I still can't even read my own writing without experiencing heavy-duty flashbacks.
Thanks, mbs. Your time-line is a bit wonky, but close enough for psychobabble. That "Trust" is the hard part. I likes my proofs. . . This morning finds me unable to trust the co-owner politics attached to any and all of the farm potentials. It feels like waiting for a blessing from a program that is still in Congressional Committee Review.
Equally, I feel like any work I do here will be shot down in the next executive session, whenever that is.
Sorting. . .