A friend of mine recently said ” It doesn’t matter what anyone else wants, what do YOU want to do?” I thought back to what my goals were before Plannus Interruptus (common ailment for plans, no doctor needed). Remember nearly five years ago when I bought an RV and planned on paying off debt and then hitting the AT, followed by building a tiny house in the woods? (maybe, if you’re a long time reader, lol). So I sat on how that felt back then for a while in my head.
Zoom in to today (pretend this is a video,’k?) I’m rushing towards 60 right now (What, how the hell did that happen???) I still have debt because DUH I bought a house when I moved LegoMan and me a few states away. The AT hike is not near future any more, although it still simmers on the back burner like a sweet, savory sensory experience – but tucked away for exploration at another time. Back in 2016 I was inches away from zero debt on any respectable timeline application. Pffft. Plot twist!
I truly am more of a gypsy than a homesteader when I am solo. Yeah, I know you can homestead all by your lonesome and lots of singletons are doing so. Just doesn’t have the same appeal to me any more since I’m ten years into widowhood and alone. Lots of things are different when you are alone – not all of them bad mind you. But homesteading for me was always about a pair of hearts beating together, dreaming and working together; hands securing a future, hands able to high-five a success, or hug through a loss. I had wild dreams that I could do it on my own, played the video in my head a few hundred nights laying in my bed. Planned it. Costed it out in spreadsheets. Googled thousands of tiny houses in all shapes and sizes. And in reserve, never really admitted out loud or in writing that I thought the lone homesteader would appear and make all of my planning and work a pièce de résistance. It is something I did not write much about; it was only felt deep inside. And it was as amorphous as heck, like maybe winning the lottery? I did not even dare voice it to my closest and most intimate friends. It is hard to articulate a desire that seems beyond ones reach, even to those who would cheer you on. I mean, we’re supposed to be all empowered wimmins and have no need of that, amirite? I even considered community endeavors as a possibility in different states.
The reality is that I AM capable of taking care of myself. That does not negate the desire to find a partner; a co-conspirator of the humorous and intellectual kind. But it does not seem a potential without running through an agility course in contortion that I am currently unwilling to participate in. I am mercurial; it is not a small thing that my nickname from decades ago related to a fluid chemical compound. I think I am hard to be with. And that’s okay. Hell, sometimes I am even hard to be friends with 🙂
But I digress, quite common when I examine my future goals and dreams. All kinds of things get tossed into the mix as emotions battle logic. Sigh. ‘Tis a bane, but I dig being on both the logical and emotional continuum despite the true internal wrestling it invokes. Just don’t throw math at me, because then I will choke. Although, when left alone to read and assimilate, I can tackle that as well. INFJ, we ain’t the easiest nut to crack, trust me. We might tell you more than you want to know if caught at that right moment or if we really, truly trust you. I’m good at listing my faults; not so good elucidating my strengths.
Picking up the pieces of desires from eight or nine years ago is not easy. It is not even easy to drag them out of the recesses of your mind. Sitting quiet, alone, listening to music was the key for me, other than someone asking that brutal question in the first line of this post.
Over the time since widowhood, I’ve thought of a gazillion things that I might want to do; tried many of them. I’m not usually afraid to try. Some are evidenced on my other blogs and within the pages of this one; some, like my art, are tucked away in my kids houses, hanging on my walls, or stuffed into the folder of “Oh hell no, no one can see this!!” (drawing faces is hard!) I’ve planted gardens, established tiny orchards, discovered that you can hang a LOT of little boy socks on a cot frame, slept in a tent under snow in 13 degree weather, released spiders, wasps, bees and skinks, gone camping alone on 400 acres, gone hiking with a city-born 8 year old and read countless books.
What do I want to do? Move about, see new things, test myself. See more of our country, meet new people (okay, a few new people), and be back in nature. I have some ideas on how to fulfill this, going full circle back to 2012 where a dream hummed in my brain that got lost in fits and starts, familial dramas, financial dilemmas and mostly got lost because I lost hold of me – the person that wrote “Skin Tight“. I miss her, and I’m on a quest to rediscover her once again. To family and friends who think I am running away...
No. I am running towards me. (Jack Savoretti sings it best)