I’m having a “Bridget Jones” moment.
Sitting under a lowly dimed lamp, drinking cheap wine and blasting Whitney Huston on a Monday. I should be appalled.
I’m contemplating my life, but more specifically, “what the fuck do I do now?” I’m afraid, and I’m not. I feel like I’m standing at the very edge of adventure but scared to take the next step and leave behind all I’ve worked to achieve.
All the things I thought I wanted.
My career in marketing, my newly bought home, the 8 year relationship I started when I was 17 and saying ‘goodbye’ to the girl that wanted to please her way to a picture perfect life.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating.
For a long time I couldn’t quite figure out why I felt unsettled, to the world, I had it all. Stability, money, annual travel and a sexy man to share it with. But I felt like a prisoner, the decretive cushions, and matching doona were suffocating me. The mundane, repetitive nature of a 9 to 5, eating the same dinners every week, seeing the same people, talking about the same things and feeling the same way. Every. Single. Day.
Though still it surprises me how many woman have left relationships, simply for the fact that my own situation tells me it would be easier to stay. I salute you!
Walking blindly out of the comforts I’ve created seems counterintuitive but everything in me screams ‘run!’.
In less than two weeks the only man I’ve ever loved will leave our home. The one we built, we will split our accounts, shake hands and wish each other well.
The reality of that makes my head spin and my stomach drop. But I know why, we’ve tried, we both need more, and we’ve both emptied the other.
I’m not sure how many nights I’ll drink wine in the dark and cry to the sound track of Cadillac Records. Though, I trust one day I’ll run out of tears, and on that day I’ll find some answers and start living my life the way I’ve always wanted to.. . .
On the edge.
Here’s to you “Bridget”