Shoulda Woulda Coulda

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I need to write this out because it’s been bugging me. I’ve been feeling empty and drained lately.  Even if the panic seems gone and a dreaded sense of acceptance of what will be has dawned on me, it’s brought up some new questions for me to mull over.

I’ve been on this quest for love for more than 25 years, and I can’t help but think that if I was going to get to this point anyway where my worries concern my survival and physical well-being, the most mundane sort, then why did I even bother to go on this journey anyway?

All my big decisions thus far were made because of love. I am who I am now, where I am now because I have always chosen love, but it really hasn’t gotten me anywhere except to a place where I know love exists despite all the other worldly stuff we have to deal with, which includes existing without a physical partner while hanging onto the higher intangible aspects of love.

What if I had focused instead on wealth generation?  Then I probably would have been financially set now and not be worrying about driving an old beat up car, having the security of not being evicted from where I live, taking care of my furkids, not being able to travel with peace of mind that I could finance myself on it, and all those other worries that I have now.  I probably wouldn’t even mind my parents’ migration since, what the hey, I’m going to be okay anyway.  I wouldn’t mind being single because I’d have enough resources to amuse myself anyway.

And you know why I’ve been seriously thinking those thoughts? Because here I am, after having gone through highs and lows — mostly lows — after almost two decades, and I’m being told that union is really being in union with oneself, and that although physical union with one’s twin is possible, it is rare. And I’m going, so this is it, huh?  It’s like entering a contest where it’s advertised that the winners get this big cardboard check with millions of dollars written on it, going through everything, actually winning it and then learning the prize is literally the big cardboard description of a check and not the actual money. And you go, ummm, this is it? ummm… okay, thank you.

So that’s where I am now.

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About ButterKate

Mistress of MuMu and Maximus ; highly complex Gemini; semi-jaded romantic; purveyor of inane and profound conversation; incessant chocoholic; caffeine-free; mad driver on the road; pheromone questor; control freak; neurotic disguised with calm outer appearance; sufficiently amiable when placid, terrifying when provoked; occasional ditz; sporadic provider of life altering insights; retired poet; provider of mischief as the need arises; patron of destiny advisers; truth-teller (yes, the emperor has no clothes).

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