Wendy Keller Blog

July 24, 2010

Eleven Days to Freedom

Hmmm.  My exuberant enthusiasm for my pending freedom has waned some.  I took a book called “Awakening At Midlife” (Brehony) to the lounge chairs overlooking the marina channel this morning.  I sat out there luxuriating in the sea air and the sunshine, reading, underlining massive portions and watching the boats and yachts passing.  I ate crisp, fresh organic blueberries.  A bee came to briefly inspect my hat. I had a friendly chat with a neighbor who strolled by.

I came back in to make some lunch and afterward, reclined on the couch watching the Science channel for about five minutes.  I quickly realized it was more interesting to watch our dog Lucky. He was having some sort of dream or nightmare.  His partly-open eyes moved in REM sleep state.  His horizontal hind legs were racing and leaping over the carpet.  His nostrils were flaring.  His breath became that of a marathon runner.

Like the sleeping dog, at this point my racing is mostly in place.  Midlife is a time when all our unlived dreams bubble up to the surface, when the soul cries out for wholeness and integration.  My soul is bubbling with ideas, memories and truths – all parts of me I tossed aside in the mad rush to raise a successful child and run a successful company. I see freedom coming over the horizon, but truth be told, I’ve had increasing freedom for a long time.  Years.  Have I used it to integrate my unlived Self into my reality?  Only in small ways from time to time. I am facing the daunting task of being OK with the messiness of this transition in my life until it naturally sorts itself out.  But by instinct, I am trying to use the wrong tools to build the new Me — things like “Goal Setting” and “Take Massive Action” and “Act As If” and “Half of Success is Showing Up.”  Those are the self-help tools that helped me in the first half of my life.  I find now that they are like trying to hammer in a nail with a fistful of spaghetti.

I’m coming to appreciate the wisdom in the old adage, “What got you here won’t get you there.”  My stepdad Larry always says the dogs are “chasing bunnies” when they have these sorts of active dreams.  Like Lucky, though, if I chase my bunnies in real life, what are the odds that I’ll really catch one?  And what the heck will I do with it if I do?

July 23, 2010

Twelve Days to Freedom

I knew everything when I was 19. Most of all, as I firmly told my mother, I knew who I was and that I would never change. This was in defense of my decision to marry – about three weeks before I turned 20. I had my first baby at 22.  Time flies! Next weekend, my only living child will be moving out. It’s been 26 years since I haven’t had anyone else to consider, 16 of those years spent as a single parent when not only did I consider someone else, every breath was predicated on that person’s best interests. I have decided to chart my final 12 days and share this post with the world, for other mothers who may be feeling the same things. The reason, BTW, that it is 12 days and not a mere 8 til she moves out is because the dog is moving out 4 days later, to go live with my “was-band” who has two small kids from his second marriage.  They’ll appreciate the dog more than I can at this point and I can always go visit.

Twelve days. 12 days until what I have in my fridge is only what I like. Until when I go to sleep, it won’t be with one ear open in case I’m needed. Until I won’t think about who needs a walk so he doesn’t poop on the carpet and who needs $20 for gas money. I really can’t imagine it, and yet I’ve suddenly found that imagining what freedom will feel like in 12 short days has become my obsession.  What will I DO with the rest of my very own, all mine, completely free life?

I feel a little guilt for being so excited.  Shouldn’t I be worried or fearful of being alone? After all, I am not in a relationship and there will be no one there to fill the long empty hours. I work alone, I sleep alone and soon I will live alone. All alone. (Shhh! I can’t wait!) I may stay alone the rest of my life or I may not.  As my mother probably knew but wisely didn’t say, I have changed a lot.  I have no clear idea yet of who I am now as a Single Woman Alone or what I really want. I might go raise goats in New Guinea or start collecting antique barbed wire or set off deworming orphans in Somalia.  Or something I haven’t even considered yet. Who knows?  This time, for the rest of this lifetime, I get to choose. 

Shouldn’t I be concerned that my only child is toddling into adulthood?  Well, this is a capable, strong-minded, strong-willed, grounded young woman.  Sure, she’ll make mistakes, but she’s ready and I’m so proud of her.  I can’t rouse fear over that.  So other than the fleeting bouts of self-imposed guilt, I have to tell you I’m more likely to have a party for myself, by myself, the 12th day when I see that black furry tail riding off into the sunset. I think I’ll get a massage, sit on the ocean front deck and read a book, maybe take a walk on the beach at sunset.  Me: Day One, on my own, with a lifetime of freedom ahead of me. Imagine that! Imagine it for me, will ya?  I can’t yet!

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