I can't remember the last time I felt so detached. I was lying down looking at the clouds today, thinking about how it felt to be 9 years old in the summertime. On a typical hot summer Saturday my parents would be reading or sleeping upstairs, while my brothers and I watched tv, played with Legos, or rode around the neighborhood on our bikes. It felt like a wonderful gift to be surrounded by my family at home.
When I chose to sell my home and quit my job, I wanted it to fall early in the summer. This, I hoped, would allow me some time to be close to my Z as we both adjusted to our new environment. I was told "just get here!" And that the rest would work itself out.
I know you can't predict everything in life. I thought I could plan my pregnancy in order to have a Pisces child, who would be sensitive and musically gifted. Ha! Or better yet, a Cancer like me, so we could snuggle up in our little shell and surround ourselves with art. I certainly don't regret that fate gave me a Virgo child, in fact I couldn't be more grateful for her, exactly as she is. This summer, though...I'm curious how fate will reward my patience. I'm keenly aware of my disabled-ness right now. Deep down I feel vindicated for freeing myself of an unfulfilling job, and reaching this mecca where anything is possible, and there is no history to hold me back. But here I sit, taking in the same view day after day, all plans on hold indefinitely.
I'm succumbing to the idea that I will begin emptying my savings each month. And because money is a concept I don't grasp in a concrete way, I feel nothing. I should be guarding my prize, that's what I'm told. I should invest my savings, and aggressively go after a partnership or business opportunity so I can continue my financial growth. I really should be doing that right now. Instead of daydreaming and journaling.
