“Discovering your purpose in life is like feeling a soft summer breeze caress your body while drenched in sweat. Realizing that your purpose challenges everything you ever sought and knew in life is like feeling a harsh winter wind plummet your naked body after emerging from the ocean waters in December.”
2009 and back—Sundays were awesome. Sunday bekfast to start the day, usually pancakes and bacon, then work time! There was usually time spent in the shop with the stereo blaring, and always time spent working in the yard. I loved Sundays! For about 20 years, I never spent a Sunday alone. The best Sundays were whenever we had ongoing projects-like building a cabin, shop, or installing a new ceiling. We had fun, regardless of what we were doing.
2010 to last Sunday—Sundays suck. There is no Sunday bekfast. Pepper da’ schnauzer and I just eat whatever we can find. We have not had pancakes or bacon since October 2009. And never will again. The work continues, but there is no joy in it because I do it alone. Sundays offered three choices-work on job things; work on school work; or clean. In a striving effort to keep everyone happy-I always chose whatever seemed to please others the most.
This Sunday-today—the first Sunday in which I’ve stirred without any lingering hope whatsoever. I am empty. I accepted the solitude. I’ve accepted that he is not returning and I will be alone for the rest of my miserable days. I will never wake up to pancakes and bacon, be excited about projects, or wake up in his arms again. Surprisingly, the absence of any hope whatsoever is easier. Knowing that the rest of my Sundays now offer four choices is somewhat of a relief. I can work on job things; work on school work; clean; or pretend it is nightfall, go back to bed and wonder how much longer until my punishment is over. I accept it. In fact, I embrace the solitude. Finally, I can sleep without any annoying interruptions of unrealistic dreams to my work or sleep. I am empty. I do not expect anything.
It took over four years for me to accept Solitude and Loneliness. After four long years of clinging to expectations and hope, I finally killed them all. After realizing that expectations are empty, there is nothing to anticipate, and hope is false, I am falling in love with Solitude. It is comforting to let go of any lingering hope and desperation. I expect nothing from life. After all, I had everything once. All my expectations and fragmented hopes are dead. My dear friend calls it progress and advises me that it is great to accept solitude as my purpose in life. I am learning what I was supposed to learn—that I belong alone. It is progress because once all hope of anything good is gone, one cannot even feel the pain anymore. Soon, I will look forward to the weekends. I can go to my house, lock the door, and kiss Solitude. I can remove my mask and sleep a long, dreamless sleep. And until Monday morning, I can know the emptiness of sleeping within Solitude’s embrace. I do not look forward to anything. . . except the end. I may be free.
©2014 Relinda R.