The Path Less Traveled (Stuck in Traffic)
So one of my oldest and closest friends just was accepted into her dream MFA program at the University of New Mexico. I am thrilled for her. Thrilled that she took the risk and put herself out there. Thrilled that she was accepted. Thrilled that she'll be starting a new phase of her life this summer. One that will lead her down an exciting writing path and into a career as a writer and journalist on NPR. And above all, I'm so proud of her for opening up old wounds and trying to heal them.
The part that I'm not thrilled about is being left behind. Everyone else keeps moving onto new phases of their life and here I sit, babysitting an 81 year old woman who is unable to function without assistance every fifteen minutes. I too am ready to take the leap into the unknown, create a new life, explore the world. But I'm living the life of an 81 year old disabled woman and have been since she was 72 and I was 38. I try to tell myself that I'm on the path less traveled. The run away from home at 17 and join a commune path. The travel around the country in a VW van path. The mosh pit, sweat and tattoos path. The path to adventure and great things. The path where redemption or wisdom or joy is going to come out of taking care of an old person: I've been waiting for nine years and still nothing seems to have materialize except the flab around my tummy and the etched wrinkles on my face.
Somehow I've been stuck here in one place for so many years I can't even remember what life was like before and I don't see any exit ramps. Sometimes people tell me about the twenty first century. I read about it on the web, catch snippets of it on the nightly news. But it's not my life, my world.
Saturday night, I'll drink champagne to celebrate my friend's success. Then I'll go home to my same life that never changes.
The part that I'm not thrilled about is being left behind. Everyone else keeps moving onto new phases of their life and here I sit, babysitting an 81 year old woman who is unable to function without assistance every fifteen minutes. I too am ready to take the leap into the unknown, create a new life, explore the world. But I'm living the life of an 81 year old disabled woman and have been since she was 72 and I was 38. I try to tell myself that I'm on the path less traveled. The run away from home at 17 and join a commune path. The travel around the country in a VW van path. The mosh pit, sweat and tattoos path. The path to adventure and great things. The path where redemption or wisdom or joy is going to come out of taking care of an old person: I've been waiting for nine years and still nothing seems to have materialize except the flab around my tummy and the etched wrinkles on my face.
Somehow I've been stuck here in one place for so many years I can't even remember what life was like before and I don't see any exit ramps. Sometimes people tell me about the twenty first century. I read about it on the web, catch snippets of it on the nightly news. But it's not my life, my world.
Saturday night, I'll drink champagne to celebrate my friend's success. Then I'll go home to my same life that never changes.
Labels: Aspiring Novelists, Caregiving
posted by Karin Zirk at
6:49 PM
1 Comments:
Oh, sweetie, I knew this was going to be hard on you. But we gotta do what we gotta do. We are both a bit isolated. Lets just make sure we get each other out and about enough to keep us sane, as long as it lasts.
I'm here for you.
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