untethered

perhaps it’s the result of turning 45.

perhaps it’s the state of *waves at everything in general*

perhaps it’s empty nesting catching up to me.

perhaps it’s letting stella go.

one way or another, i feel that i have become completely untethered.

for the first time in my adult life (aka: since becoming pregnant in 1997), i am responsible for no one and nothing else but myself.

i am not a mom. i am not a dog mom. i am not a spouse.

i am completely untethered.

quick exit from an awkward party? no more dog at home waiting for me.

uncomfortable holiday event? no kids that are over sugared and need to get to bed.

friday night with no plans on saturday? i really, REALLY don’t need to close down the bar…but…i mean…

it is freeing and unnerving and wholly unchartered territory.

i am responsible to nothing but myself.

what does one do at 45? float off into space like a saundra bullock movie?

i’ve worked hard for the little life that i have. monday thru friday at the bookstore; sundays at the crystal shop. books and crystals. my life is filled with my favorite things. my finances are (knock wood) stable. my health is (knock wood) stable. i love my jobs. i have a fantastic partner i’ve been spending time with.

and i feel completely lost.

what do i do from here?

i’ve done enough major life reboots over the last 27 years that i’m not in a hurry for another.

hell, in the last year i changed jobs (changed one, added one). that’s enough of a professional reboot. i’ve lost my sweet stella in the last month. that’s enough of an emotional reboot. i’ve stepped away from a few friendships in the last year. there’s not much of anyone left in that category for a reboot there. aside from changing cars or changing apartments, there’s not much reboot space left. 

be kind universe, that wasn’t a challenge.

please. that really wasn’t a challenge.

there have been several phases of deep, uncomfortable dysmorphia in my life. times when i didn’t recognize the person in the mirror physically, mentally, emotionally.

i’m in one of those right now.

the picture mostly fits. mostly. when i look at myself at in the mirror in the mornings getting ready for work i mostly recognize her. she matches the picture in my head more days than not, and more than several other iterations in the last few years. much more than the mullet years. the hair is fantastic now. the face, well, at least it i recognize her more often than not. most days.

everything else is changing too. the clothes generally are correct but getting more uncomfortable by the day. what do you mean my safe, comfortable, full coverage high waisted low hip plain black, 100% cotton briefs aren’t the ticket anymore? TEAM GRANNY PANTY. except…not? and then there’s skinny jeans: please, for the love of fat calves everywhere, please make regular jeans (maybe even boot cut) a thing again. music? i can’t find a playlist to save my life. all the songs feel overplayed and old. the new stuff doesn’t make sense. food? my partner is a FANTASTIC cook and i’m eating things i would have strait up refused to eat a few months ago. onions? peppers? horseradish? sure. why not. WHO AM I? how the fuck do i grocery shop now? the same basic 10 items are no longer enough.

who am i? who do i want to be? who can i safely be? the world is changing daily and parts of me are quickly becoming illegal again.

a single, plus sized, educated, independent, queer, female identifying human? i’m two bad days from being on a watch list, if i’m not already. i’m two supreme court decisions away from losing my right to marry whomever i please and my right to own credit cards. they can try to fuck with my fertility, but i think that ship long since sailed. if i hadn’t already closed the baby factory, it’s getting to the age of rotten eggs and imminent decommissioning. THANK THE GODS i had a fantastic doctor 22 years ago. i’m endlessly lucky no politicians are interested in my uterus any longer. i’m now “of an age” where getting hired at any new job could be dicey. hollywood would start casting me in grandmother roles. i can start to shoplift from grocery stores as part of the invisible womanhood. being replaced by younger and prettier doesn’t take much these days. 

an educated woman with her own finances who can afford to live alone (mostly afford)? DANGER WILL ROBINSON. i’m not top of the other side’s hit list, but i’m pretty far up there.

so, where does that leave me?

i’m stuck in the labyrinth and the imps are constantly popping up from under the flagstones and changing the arrows.

45; if i live til 90, i’m just now at the half way point. the first half has been growing up- literally for the first 17 years. then human motherhood for years 18-38. dog mom for years 37-45. there was a divorce in there. school took up a solid portion going well into my 20’s. a few career changes. more than a few deaths and losses. a house somewhere in there. money and not money in there. plenty of therapy- part paid by insurance, part completed with hope, deep dive google searches and a bit of experimentation.

now, what do i do with all that?

that’s some hard earned learning.

frank mccourt published angela’s ashes at age 66. laura ingalls wilder published the first little house book at age 65. tolkien published the hobbit at 45. kathy bates did misery at 42. samuel l jackson did pulp fiction at 45. alan rickman did die hard at 42. brian cranston did malcom in the middle at 44.

I HAVE TIME.

i have education. i have experience. i even have new non-granny panty underwear (thanks to a weekend score at ross). i have stability. i have health.

and yet, i float.

untethered.

unsure of which direction to go.

do i take the winter, the dark months, the quiet season to figure it out? spend some time quietly reading, meditating, writing, waiting for the spring to return? take some time to adjust to the most recent changes, strategize, plot and plan? let my finances adjust to their new normal? hunker down where i’m at to avoid packing boxes and moving in the snow (again)? 

do i ask the universe to just get any more changes out of the way while i’m already free floating? do i dare open myself up to whatever that might mean? the universe is a sneaky bitch sometimes and when you say change she really takes the opportunity to show you change is for more than underwear and coinstar machines?

there’s a lot of underwear in this post today. i would apologize, but i don’t care. UNDERWEAR. there you go. one more.

for now, i’m content with day by day.

to be blunt, i didn’t expect to make it this far, so taking it day by day is kinda all there is.

i don’t know what i expected from life, but somehow reaching 45 wasn’t on the list. contemplating another 45 seems…like being asked to eat an elephant. daunting. overwhelming. unpalatable. illogical.

why would i eat an elephant when there’s a taco bell 2 blocks away? they say to eat it one bite at a time, but what does that even mean? who’s cooking it? do you have to cook each individual bite? that seems exhausting. is it really the WHOLE thing? trumpet to the tail? like a pig? squeal to the heel? can’t i just have a burger instead?

it’s easy to get mired down in questions and nonsensical distracting rabbit trails. who was the first person to eat an elephant? are elephants an endangered species? how do you refrigerate an elephant to keep it good long enough to eat the whole thing?

what do i want to do next? where do i want to live? when do i *really* need a colonoscopy? who designed mammograms and why isn’t there a better option yet? do senior living communities really hold hard lines on the 55+ part? does my hip just hurt or is it bone cancer? what kind of underwear do you wear if you have a hip replacement? do you have to get ones with velcro tabs on the side? a tear away thong ala burt reynolds? how much will menopause suck? when will i have to learn to adapt to being a grandma? can i be a cool grandma? or will i be a memaw in a mumu with slightly unhinged responses to things that probably aren’t kid friendly?

i’m nervous for the next chapter. maybe a little excited nervous. more-so walking into an unknown dark room with a blindfold on nervous.

trepidation. perturbation. apprehension.

i know whatever comes next, i’ll learn to adapt like always. i'll pull up my big girl panties and deal with it. i’m trying to be curious. excited (without the nervous). exploratory. open. adventurous.

and, at some point, maybe a little tethered again. at least a floating buoy.