Conversation with the Universe

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Here I am at forty-something, eyes puffy, tears running uncontrollably down my cheeks, praying to my father’s picture for strength, for work, to find myself. You’d think by now I’d have my shit together and if you ask many, I do. I have a lot of fans among friends, ex colleagues, and even people I meet occasionally who don’t even know me very well. I just come off as strong, personable, professional, successful, a good mother, someone who has it together. But, do I really? How come I keep getting into the same messes time and time again?  How come I keep repeating the same mistakes over and over?  How come I find myself back where I was a few years ago, albeit older and a bit wiser. What’s it going to take to really start living the kind of life I was meant to lead?  Because I’ll be darn if this is it!


But actually, upon close examination, maybe it is. Maybe this is exactly the kind of life I was meant to lead and these are the kinds of things I was meant to live through in order to make me who I really want to be. But, why is it so difficult? Am I so hard-headed that I can’t learn from other people’s mistakes?  Come on Universe, give me a chance. I can do this. I’m a fast learner! Just put these people in front of me and I’ll promise to interview them, probe into their lives, speed read their learning manuals.


You mean I can’t just pass a test and then I’m done? What? On-the-job-training is required?  I see. And it involves a lifetime? Crap! What? The more training the easier things get. Oh, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel? Good, good to know. By the way, can you answer one last freaking question for me? Why is it some people are just born with a golden spoon in their mouth and don’t seem to have to do a hell of a lot in order to live a blessed life?


I know what you’re going to say. First, karma. They’ve paid their dues. Great! Prove it! Next, you’re going to tell me they go through their own turmoil; they just hide it well … like I hide mine. Good point! Yeah, I know, my fans. What do they know, right?


Well, I have news for you. Some do know me very well and it’s because they know me that they belong to my club. It’s because they see the challenges I’ve had to face during the years and how I’ve overcome them with confidence, a positive attitude and an endless supply of wit, not because I keep the shit quiet and only come out to play when I have freshly applied makeup, salon puffed hair and happy toes. No, these people know me because I confide in them. They listen to me tell my story du jour and are astonished as they hear me ramble on only to come up with a solution right before it’s time to say goodbye. (Years of therapy, I assure you.) They’re not only astonished, they’re thankful for the lesson and glad it’s not them going through it because they wouldn’t know how to handle it. They would fall apart, they say. But me, I’m soooo strong and so together and they know I’ll be OK and the better for it.


So, what is it? The shit only comes to those who can take it? So, the golden spoonies are wimps? Is that what you’re saying? Well, I have news for you, starting tomorrow I’m giving up my mental barbells and hitting the fast-food joints. I’m going wimp for a while; I’m gonna grow soft and weak. I’ll show you! You’re going to have to give me a break or I’ll just shatter, or burst or fall apart or whatever else happens to those who can’t take it. I’ll show you!

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