Had a date with the ex- last night. We mat at the accountant’s to get last year’s taxes taken care of. We won’t be seeing each other for a long while, I think. It went poorly (to say the least).
She asked me how I was doing. “I’m waiting,” I said in the car, rain falling down against the windshield.
I’m waiting to hear back from various employers,
Waiting to find someone to take her place,
Waiting to be able to even be in a relationship,
Waiting for my life to start up again.
Just waiting.
And I’m losing my patience.
I want something to happen. I’m a little too longtoothed to know better than to say, “Waiting for anything to happen,” but I’m getting there. Things can always get worse. As bad as they look, things can always get worse.
I’ve got everything set. A new set of clothes, a new place, new car, new job (almost). Everyone tells me this is my opportunity to be on my own, to be my own person, to set all my priorities on myself.
But, I’m still in the husband head-space. I need to get out of that. I’m not exactly sure how to do it.
So, I’m waiting. And I’ve got to stop, I know that.
But there’s a difference between knowin’ and doin’. I’m almost there. Almost. There’s a trigger. I’m waiting for someone else to pull the trigger.
Maybe I should just pull it myself.