Please Hold. Your Call is Important To Us

I’ve never been very patient. Ever. And despite how much things have changed in my life in the past two years (divorce will do that to you), I am still not satisfied. When will I get where I want to go? Why didn’t I get that job I thought I wanted that I really didn’t want but just need to get out of this rut and that seemed to easiest way to it? When will I be able to high tail it out of here for a bigger patch of foresty peace in a tiny house (but not TOO tiny) with a couple of goats and a mess of bees? 

I don’t know.

It’s making me crazy.

My tarot card readings, my rune castings, keep saying PATIENCE. What’s yours will come to you. In time. What’s worth having is worth waiting for.

I call bullshit. 

I mean, how much time are we talking about? Six months? A year? Ten? I feel like there really isn’t much time left. I obsess over death, over dreams never realized, over that book never written, over the money I desperately need but can’t figure out how to find. I’m doing things, god knows. I’m productive. I’m active. I show up. That’s all it takes, right? Showing up? That’s what I keep hearing.

Well, HERE I AM. Showing up and shit. Showing the fuck up. Three blogs, I have now. So I’m writing. But not the thing I really want to be writing. 

Instead, I’m shuttling kids to school and marching band practices and high school football games and slinging burgers in the concession stand (showing up to volunteer work!) and dodging the crap that keeps getting slung my way, and taking the high road and not allowing my buttons to be pushed. All the while wondering when I’ll meet someone who will push the right buttons. Like….that one. You know what I’m talking about. I don’t have time to explain myself. 

So, this whole waiting business is agony. I’m on hold but I don’t know for what. When will that door open? How many do I have to stand in front of before the correct one opens? And if I choose the wrong one (again)? Will I end up trading the cow for beans? The money for a set of luggage or a can of chipotle-flavored Spam? Will the beans be magic? When will I know? How will I know?

Tell me. I’m tired of waiting.


Claudia lives in bucolic splendor 45 minutes from everywhere with kids, cats and an elderly guinea pig