Patience is a virtue. ~Prudentius
Patience, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue. ~Bierce
Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. ~Rousseau
Endurance is patience concentrated. ~Carlyle
Are we there yet? ~Me
You're traveling through another dimension (am i? is that why i feel so distant and strange?) -- a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind (especially of mind dear god and boy, do i mind). A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination (i certainly couldn't have imagined i'd be stretching my own boundaries so far). That's a signpost up ahead (shit. i hate the signs. i don't believe in signs... do i?). Your next stop: The Twilight Zone!
Please. That's not my next stop. I've been in this zone for quite some time now but it never becomes familiar. If and when it does, I'll know I've lost too much of myself to keep being who I think I am or I was.
I've been consciously waiting for things to change because the current situation is unacceptable as a status quo. I don't accept SNAFU as how it should be or how it will continue to be. What's keeping me going in this frozen state is that I'm sure (oh please oh please) it ends soon.
What's needing change, you ask? To be perfectly vague, I need my kid to be okay. His forced emotional state (damn you, justice, in the past) doesn't support that. In addition, I need to make this long distance epic (and I use that word in the old, non-commercially-abused sense) love into an in-our-face, right next to each other, stealing covers and putting the silverware in the wrong place in the tray, basking in each other's glow and glower and boredom and delight epic love. I need the courts to move forward. I need the government to move forward. I need my life to move forward.
Because this extended game intent on stalemate shit has got to go.
Every day and week and month and moment that passes in this swirly grey purgatory, this mundane but pregnant limbo, takes something out of me and replaces it with profound wisdom and, really, total shock at the way I'm handling these thumb screws. I'm losing my wonder but gaining strength. It's hard to think about because it hurts to accept the fact that I can't be both strong and bright (in my heart). As a little girl, even the smallest emotional slight tore my heart up. Now I feel like I'm staring at me from outside my body when broadsword blows to my emotional center barely rock me, let alone knock me off my feet. In the same way, music that moved me is now simply lovely but not profound. Clear, dark skies scattered with cold stars make me smile in a comfortable way but they don't take my breath or light me up with an electric glow anymore.
And that's okay, really. It's just sort of sad in a "yep, that's life" sort of way. It makes me think, though, about all the other people I know who have already done this growing up thing. All the roses with their bloom already off. I think I was a hold out. Maybe I was a late bloomer. Maybe I'm not a rose at all, but something slower and rarer like a night blooming desert flower. Or maybe I'm just getting older and the metaphors are naturally going towards the sun setting type.
So I'm in limbo and have been for a few years now. What am I learning from limbo? Well, I'm learning I can bend to a vulgar degree without breaking. I'm learning that fierce passion like mine can be concentrated and focused into slow burning fuel able to sustain my core through long winters of waiting.
I hate waiting. I'm also very good at it. I just didn't know that.
But now that I've had these revelations and revealed the center of my being, can we just get a move on?
No?
Okay. I'll be over here, reading all the magazines and having all the dreams and learning all the things until it's my turn to move forward. Just don't be surprised if I've rearranged the whole waiting room by the time you get to me. Because I'm here and I don't have a guide, I feel like I have a duty to future limbo dancers. I'll be leaving a map of waiting for the next poor, passionate soul. May they be as lucky as I am and have a stubborn fortitude and wells of patience and enough whimsy to make a life out of it as I have.
Either that or they can go quietly, artistically and positively mad. Which might be exactly what I'm doing. I think this is how eccentrics are made. I'll let you know when I get there.
