I don’t quite know why I haven’t worked this out yet, but being a widow does not mean I am protected from Life parking its enormous derrière over my head and emptying its dysenteric bowels.
If life was remotely fair, it should protect me from further heartbreak.
It should also deliver me a million dollars, a permanent job, a full home renovation, an overseas holiday, and after a time, a hot, intelligent man who can look at me and all my baggage and still say “Phwoar, what a woman!”
….and yet none of that has happened.
I find myself back in a place of uncertainty.
The hole that I have been trying to climb out of since Greg died and left me on this shaky, moving earth without a still-point, a protector, a person to say “Everything will be OK.”
So much of my current angst comes from not having job security and having a misguided right-wing State government who is hell-bent on austerity measures that include sacking a whole heap of public servants … and I expect that they will then poke about in the left-wing Federal government’s unemployment figures and decry their terrible management of the country’s economy and jobless rate.
Surely there’s got to be some law of nature that protects widows from further harm?? Some sort of immunity card that I can play when Life insists on throwing curve-balls.
Except there is not, nor has there ever been.
So I guess it is up to me to rescue myself…… Which I’d gladly do if only I knew how.
I am trying to be my own hero. I am proactive at looking for work. I strive to make a better life for my children. Perhaps I have given up on the hot bloke with the big brain … for now …. but I haven’t given up completely.
…and short of finding some armour and a unicorn, I shall just have to keep trying everything I know to get The Universe to shift its great posterior to another location. (In other words- I shall have to suck it up and plod on).
…at least plodding is moving right?