I didn’t even realize how hard life was in New York. I didn’t have a clue.
In the opening scene of P.S. I Love You (one of my favorite chick flicks), Hilary Swank’s character, Holly, says to her husband Gerry (Gerard Butler), that she’s tired of waiting for their lives to get started. I so identified with that sentiment. Waiting. Waiting for the gig that’s going to change everything. Waiting for Mr. Right to step up and make me forget about Mr. Right Now. Waiting to lose those last ten pounds. Waiting for everyone else to make my life better. Just waiting.
With no end in sight.
I know I have friends who also feel that shiftless empty void. And I have zero advice for them.
As some of you know, I made it to the end of my rope this year. I saw nothing ahead. And not in that “the future is wide open and the possibilities are endless” stuff they feed you at graduation ceremonies. But rather, “there are storm clouds overhead and I see nowhere for shelter, so just let the lighting strike me down and be done with it” nothingness. I am so lucky that I was in Maine with the salt water air when that feeling struck, because the salt water might have saved my life.
I have no recipe for happiness. All I can say is hang in there. Be as true to yourself as you can be. And keep moving forward. Happiness will find you.
My life has started. I’m open and happy. I didn’t know this could be.
