Life at 49

RubesI am trying to stay positive. I am trying to remember everything that remains rather than dwelling on what I’ve lost.

But so much has been lost.

Much of that is my fault.

Much of it is not.

Much of it is simply life.

Choices. Consequences. Paths that twist and turn and diverge. The unexpected. The known. The glorious highs. The gut wrenching lows. This is life for all of us. This is what it means to be human.

But without a job, without money, without insurance, I am struggling to keep my head above water–emotionally and financially.

How does it come to this? Nearly 50 years of trying to live right, to raise good kids, to be a kind and loving mom, to be a supportive wife, to be a good friend, to build a business, to work hard, to write your heart out… and to feel so alone, broken, jobless, penniless, with medical issues, and threats of small claims court by one who used to love you.

Of course, I’ve made mistakes. Many, many mistakes. There are words I wish I could take back, hurts I wish I could heal. There are situations I wish I’d handled differently, pains I wish I hadn’t inflicted. But every day, I try to do better. To be better. And I feel like I’m getting worse–like I’m turning into someone I hardly recognize, someone I don’t want to know.

Someone no one wants to know.

There are days that I feel I can conquer the world. Like I am a phoenix about to rise from the ashes. Like these past three years of pain and sadness and reclamation will have a happy ending–the one that comes when you live your truth and share your story and claim your own path, the one you denied yourself for so very long.

And there are days like this. The drowning. The tears. The hopelessness. The overdue bills. The waning checking account. The shooting back pain that takes my breath away. The heaviness of friends who weren’t really friends. The Lonely. Lonely. Lonely.

“You’re so smart,” people say. “You’re so good at what you do. Something big is coming your way–I know it. The people who have left weren’t really your people. This is all temporary.”

But the temporary feels like forever when every day is a struggle.

This is my life at 49.

I thought, somehow, that it would be different.

About Katrina Anne Willis

Professional copywriter, author, friend, lover, dreamer, drinker of red wine.
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4 Responses to Life at 49

  1. Jodi says:

    Oh, Katrina, I am SO sorry this is how life is for you right now. I wish I had words that could heal and offer hope. The words you have heard from others are, without a doubt, sincere and from those who love you. But they are only words, which are easily offered by those on the outside looking in and not living it every day. I pray they turn out to be prophetic. I wish I could offer more than prayers for healing in all the ways you need, but I cannot 😦 I will continue to pray for you nonetheless ❤ Jodi

  2. Dawn Pier says:

    Dear Kat,
    I’m sorry you feel like utter crap. Please, take time to meditate. I am hearing words spoken by someone who has lost their center, lost their sense that they are all they need. Quick story – a friend of mine began transitioning from a man to a woman in January. In Argentina! Can you imagine the challenges he’s faced? The people who have judged and scorned him? Walked away from him? Family and “friends” both. His stigma is visible…he cannot hide from it even if he wants to. I’m sure that he’s gone through some dark times and yet he is fully embracing the present and all that it entails. I think what keeps him so positive is that he meditates daily, often 2x a day. I hope that this may be of help to you as well. Meditation, prayer, journaling…use this time to focus on you and be kind and loving to you. Forget the external for these periods of time and just BE.
    Love,
    Dawn

  3. Sherri Harvey says:

    Love you, honey…would you have changed anything you did? I think not–Hang in there…this, too, shall pass…xxx

  4. Marla says:

    No words can cure this kind of heartache. No one will understand unless they are there in that space, even then it’s not the same. If you need to vent to someone in the same river and similar boat, call me. I’m always here and will understand more than you can imagine. Just keep breathing and breathing. ❤

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