Getting over myself

I had some lovely, supportive messages from people yesterday. They were concerned about getting hit by a metaphorical wave.

Many of them are doing it tougher than me.

I was a bit embarrassed, to be honest, because my problems are pretty small and I invariably bounce back.

My good completely and utterly outweighs my bad: I have two gorgeous kids, a cosy house, a lovely partner, great friends, wayward but generally robust health …

Sure, I feel a little screwed over right now, but it’s not the end of the world.

I was also given a reality check by a follower who challenged my “Where will I end up?” blog.

She wrote: “The older I become the less important it is.”

I replied: “What’s the thing that’s become more important?”

And she said: “Being near family, Church and friends. Just to be near those I love and within a possible circle of 50 to 80 kms of my interests group makes me happy. The actual space and place are not really a consideration. Once I would have listed several beach/ island spots and a very exact style of building. Now it is being near those I love that matters.”

She has a point. It’s why I’m not sure I’ll ever get my Newcastle dream. If the kids stay in Sydney, I’ll want to be close to them. Gawd my parents do a lot of travelling (in their ’70s!) down the freeway to visit us.

But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life beside a dirty, busy road. *Stamps feet*

I need to believe there’s a little slice of peace with my name on it out there somewhere – my reward for keeping my head above water during the tough times.

My future got blown apart the day my husband walked out the door, it helps me stay positive to imagine a bright new one for myself.

I know it’s selfish to be looking forward to a time when my choice of address isn’t governed by my kids’ school.

But I am.

I should be grateful for all that I have now.

And I am.

But I want more.

OK, I’ll admit it, sometimes I wish for the fairytale.

 

pretty-woman-fire-escape

 

But I’m also a realist: a knight doesn’t rescue you, you rescue yourself.

When you do, it might not be a fairytale ending, but it CAN be a happy one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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4 thoughts on “Getting over myself

  1. Newcastle is not that far. Just a short jaunt up the freeway, or a leisurely train journey (most of the way. Thanks to Baird the Bandit. Grrrr. Put the train line back). It is a little slice of heaven. Question: why should we, the women, be the ones to ensure we live close to everyone else, regardless of what we actually want? Go where you want, let them move close to you. Amazing how adaptable family can be.

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