The voices in my head....

I used to look forward to this stage in my life.  Eventually what was would be done and a new phase would present itself.  I held on tight to the book of Job.  He suffered, lost it all, but was eventually blessed greatly.  More kids, more livestock....life fully restored.....greatly blessed.  I clung to his story as a promise of hope.  Things never sucked nearly that bad, so better should come with speed & ease.

Cancer and care-taking stalled my career.  Just an off-ramp, women ramp off the career path and back in all the time...it's a norm of working motherhood.  Job was blessed with more livestock in the latter part of his life than the first.  It crushed the dream of another baby.  Seven sons, three daughters in his second act.  Hell, Madonna didn't even start having babies until 40.  There will be a second chance.  This is temporary. 

It's been a pretty consistent script, running on a fairly constant loop in my noggin for years.  Truth of the matter is, though, that right now this forward-facing optimistic self-talk is being drowned out by my natural cynicism.  My left shoulder hosts the little blonde cheerleader clutching faith, hope and sunshine.  On the other sits the cranky, tired red-headed single mom who is content to sit back alone with a couple of glasses of wine and a season of Sex and the City.  My Miranda voice is currently louder than the inner cheerleader, and the conversation between the two sounds something like...

Job lived another hundred and forty years.  His later life was blessed even more than his earlier life.  He lived to see four generations!  Much more lies ahead.

• One hundred and forty damn years?  Does the bible specify that all the family additions out lived him?  Nope, it doesn't.  FOUR damn generations.  How many wives did he go through?  How many more people do you suppose he had to fucking bury in his one hundred and forty damn years?  Yeah, several.   

You see other widows in the online group committed and happy, devoted in Facebook official relationships.  Marrying again, after the same circumstances and timeline.  It could happen.  You could maybe do it.  You can get past this.  Can't you?

• Marriage?  No.  That really just means that at some point, someone is going to be wiping someone else's butt in a hospital.  And they'll die.  Disney leaves out a lot of 'happily ever after'.  Death doesn't come from an apple or cursed loom, and no one is saved by a kiss.  It's bull shit.  Life is messy, and so is death.

Better probably can come with speed & ease, if I can shut the cynic up and get out of my own way. 

.