In the Thick of Things

For a moment, I forgot my own age. I actually had to stop and think. How can I be 32? How is it possible I've been here 32 years? I don't remember 32 years worth of stuff . . . do I? I feel like I'm still in my twenties. Many of my friends are in their twenties. I was actually told by someone a couple of weeks ago that he thought I was the same age as my 22-year-old nephew. It had to have been the lighting. Nonetheless, it added a thrill to my night.

My life is going through a turnstile. So many painful changes have swept over me it can't help but be funny. I blame it all on a prayer. I felt that my life had become stagnant in the familiar, and I was drowning in the quagmire of security. I prayed, recklessly, for the removal of all obstacles that were stunting my progress to happiness and fulfillment. I named people, institutions, lifestyle choices that I suspected to be in my way and asked God to deal with all things as He saw fit. I knew it was dangerous. I knew an answer to this prayer would, in all likelihood, cause immeasurable grief. As they say, you get what you pay for.

Almost immediately I noticed little inconveniences popping up. My life usually runs very smoothly, but I suddenly found myself in circumstances that tried my ability to self-defend. Then the roof fell in. In short (and in this order), the love of my life tells me he's involved with someone, a little more than a week ago I was fired, and this weekend the guy I was seeing (who had been a respite from my heartbreak) dumps me. Those are the major whammies on my mind right now, but there's more. A little hurricane called Ivan knocked a limb into the eve of my house causing damage that still needs repairing. I've been driving my mother's car for over a month now because mine "stopped working." The dealership replaced a defective part that was under warranty (thank God!), but refuses to correct all the problems that have mysteriously begun since they worked on it. (They claim it came in that way.) Now I get to have a mechanic fix the car, paid for out of my currently paycheck-less savings, and then fight the dealership to cover the cost.

I feel like a whiner, and I hate whiners. I know how fortunate I am. My roof damage from Ivan is superficial. There was no structural or internal damage to my home. So many were not so blessed. And I'm fortunate to have a car to see me through this trouble with my own car. I could have found myself without any transportation. Even in my heartbreak, I know myself to be blessed. It's as though God interceded where I didn't have the strength to stop. The man is an alcoholic, an atheist, and incapable of giving himself to a full and mature relationship . . . wholly unsuited for me . . . but I was bonded to him so tightly and only falling deeper. If I couldn't let him go, then I wouldn't be free to meet the person who will be right for me. The same is true of the guy who recently dumped me. I knew it wouldn't work out, but it distracted me from the pain of the first guy. Still, I knew staying involved with him would keep me unavailable. It was just too hard to let go.

So, I'm thirty-two. I can only shake my head in disbelief. I guess it's no wonder I'm feeling this way. Maybe the age thing is a bigger element than I ever credited. I find myself longing for my husband as though he were someone who is hiding somewhere in my current life. I don't think any woman anticipates her wedding to be delayed beyond thirty. It's a despicable thought to every young woman. I was surprisingly fine with enjoying my single-ness when that pivotal birthday arrived. There are too many unhappily married thirty-somethings who find themselves wondering why they needed to rush as twenty-somethings. Even now I don't have panicked thoughts about my biological clock or dying alone. I just find myself being more certain than ever of the type of relationship I need, feeling ready to build it, and being completely frustrated over the lack of prospects. Random thoughts will strike me that if my husband were with me in certain situations (as in the things that dissolved both ill-fated relationships), the situations wouldn't exist at all. And at other times, I wonder over how nice it would be to have someone to confer with, lean on, or simply vent to. I might even have no need for a blog.