Or propulsion. Or hurtling helter-skelter into the unknown.
I don’t even know why there’s a premise for planning out ones life. Because I do not know of one single occasion when things have turned out the way I intended.
As such, I’m about to embark on a journey for which I have no map (not that I ever had one, but, you know, metaphors.): single parenting.
We decided leafys papa would go to his dream job and I’d stay here so I can get an education. Maybe we’ll save some money, maybe we’ll decide being apart is rubbish, maybe it’ll be great, maybe I’ll be well, maybe leafy will suffer, maybe I haven’t got a clue.
I’m ridiculously grateful for the kindred spirit I’ve found in my 71 year old psychologist, not the least because she’s got me a little less frantic about the unknown future over which I have no control thus rendering the incessant ‘what if’s’ null and void. But I’m relieved to not be going – I believe that’s the best option for me right now. I’m glad leafys papa has the opportunity – he deserves it.
ARE WE MAKING ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS HERE?
I dunno, but I guess I’m okay with the only option being give-it-a-crack-and-hope-for-the-best.
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