I feel like I'm in the back seat of the convertible driven by Thelma and Louise, heading for the rim of the canyon at full speed. Life in the past fifteen months has been messy and out of control. I couldn't stop Janell's death - I couldn't get her to Mayo Clinic to deal with the multiple issues of the carcinoid cancer and the heart condition. I sometimes feel helpless in supporting my step-kids. I want them to be successful and responsible and independent, but they struggle too. I want to spend time with my Mom and help my sister (who is a SAINT!) who deals with Mom every day as she recovers from a serious car accident. And now - with the contemplation of being downsized and having to ramp up my private evaluation practice and all of the machinations (marketing, accounting, setting up my office, finding health insurance, etc.) just to survive and maintain our home, I'm feeling that canyon rim coming closer and closer.
I'm tired, really tired and frustrated and angry and lonely, a solitary passenger in the back seat of a convertible over which I feel I have no control. I have so many decisions to make and no kindred spirit to guide and support me. I miss Janell's firm, gentle way of helping me - no, helping US - find the healthy path through life.
It truly is the end of an era in my life and I no longer have two essential elements that are primary in being resilient: one significant adult relationship and a sense of a bright and purposeful future. I have no energy to crawl into the front seat, grab the steering wheel and head down a new road.
And yet . . . .
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