“…you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning

When I meditate or listen to the universe every morning, when I’m sitting in my yard in the sun, snow or rain I almost always have a little cry. My nervous system regulates. Lets go of things. I feel the need to be outside, drink my coffee and ground and center and listen to what the universe is trying to tell me. I recently turned 60 and although I feel better, and think I look better than I did a year, two years, five years ago, I am worried that I’m not going to get to do things. That time is short.

The last two years of my life have been years of deep cleansing. Deep emotional purging. It’s been good. Very good. Hard, too. But the things that I am still struggling with are my Taurean desire for comfort, at almost any cost, and fear. Yes, fear. I have been afraid my whole life to live a life outside the bounds. Of living a life of risk and excitement and total and complete abandonment of what I think I should be doing. As I look back I realize that I was living someone else’s life. Sometimes that other person was me and sometimes it was influential people in my life. And that’s what I often cry about. In fact I’m a little verklempt writing this.

Don’t get me wrong. I have had a very good life. A life of blessings. And yes, comfort. I have never wanted for any necessity. I have a lot of stuff. I take vacations. Not extravagant vacations mind you, but nice trips with family, friends, and by myself. I am not wealthy by any means, but I have enough money to pretty much do as I please. I am very comfortable.

But seeking comfort is both my blessing and my curse. I was afraid to go out into the world when I was young. I came back to my hometown after college because I didn’t know what to do with my degree and my life. I wish I had just gotten the fuck out there. Out into the great big world. At this point in my life, living where I do is chafing. I am so restless I almost can’t stand it.

There were times when I did take chances. Breaking off relationships and starting new ones. Running for office. I did that twice and won both times. Adopting two children. I could write an entire book about adopting children from a foreign country. It was an almost two year odyssey. But those experiences seem like small potatoes now. I want something bigger and wider and exciting and soul shaking and earth moving. And I still don’t know how to do it, or get it, or go there. I have started several endeavors in the last two years; this blog and my Youtube channel. And I enjoy doing both. But I’m still here. I want to be somewhere else. But I can’t seem to find a lane.

And that brings me to the next part of trying to figure out where to go and how to stop worrying about being uncomfortable.

Stay in your lane. Follow your own path. What do those tropes really mean? I’ve tried following many paths. The paths of my friends. The paths of my parents, my husband, people I wanted to like me. People of whom I was jealous. People I thought I wanted to be like. I tried acting in ways I thought would make me likeable or loveable. I tried running like a group of my co-workers did because I thought that would give me entree’ into their group. (It did not.) I tried emulating people I worked with because I thought it would make me a better teacher. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. I tried liking the same kind of music the guys I had crushes on liked because I thought it would endear me to them. The results were meh. I think some of the reasons I sought comfort was because I was trying to be versions of other people. I spent so much time and energy absorbing other people’s energy, and trying to live like they did, like what they did, think like they did that I lost the essence of who I was. And that didn’t leave me enough emotional bandwidth to seek a different life than the one I knew. So I compensated. Over buying. I have a ridiculous amount of shoes. Of sandals. Of sneakers. Of boots. I have A LOT of bras. I mean I could have my own lingerie store. I have a lot of other things too. At one time a lot of credit cards. And a lot of holiday decorations. And a lot of things I never use, like china and crystal. And I compensated by having a life very similar to that of my parents. And it wasn’t, and isn’t bad. But it was never fully mine.

But I always did kind of have a different take on things. I always had my own sense of style. I was made fun of and teased for it in middle school and high school. I followed a different path than most of my HS or college friends. Almost none of whom I have any contact with any more.

In an attempt to be a “real” writer I recently attended the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop at the University of Dayton, a semi-annual conference for humor writers and aspiring writers. The conference’s namesake is famed humor author Erma Bombeck who lived in Dayton and attended the U of D. I’ve been publishing my writing on WordPress for almost two years and on Substack for about a year and a half. I missed the last conference, not finding out about it until the reservations were full. The workshop sells out quickly every other year so I made sure to sign up as soon as registration opened for this year. I was/am looking at expanding the number of followers and for ways to get a bigger audience for my writing. The roster of keynote speakers and workshop presenters was impressive- I was especially excited to see author and actress Annabelle Gurwitch of the 90s show Dinner and a Movie, which I loved years ago. One of the takeaway messages was that you don’t have to “stay in your lane” to be accepted, to be a good writer, to be successful. That there are many ways to get where you want to be. Everyone I met was great. And encouraging. But I didn’t come away feeling like I found my tribe. Like I found my place and my people. And that got me thinking…..because I overthink absolutely everything. Is there something wrong with me or am I just destined to do my own thing mostly alone?

My recent epiphany is that I have no path. I have no tribe. I’ve tried engaging other people, inviting other people, encouraging other people, following what I thought were like minded people on social media, I’ve asked people to join me on my ventures and in my interests and have found virtually no takers. Occasionally someone will go along with me but it’s either short lived, a one shot deal, or very rarely reciprocated. So, alone I go. And sometimes all of that makes me cry a little. But I’m gonna try to not be afraid.