Be Lost

Expectations are tricky, and usually not good for me. I heard someone say that expectations are “pre-resentments.” When I have expectations I’m mostly just setting myself up for disappointment, heartache, and an inability to be fully present in the moment.

When I started down this path two months ago, I had an expectation. I had an expectation that the relationship I was in would continue, that I would have this human who, up until that point, showed himself to be a caring, supportive, amazing man. I knew I was cutting myself loose from my house, career, city, and community (at least physically), to wander and explore. In my mind, I was going to be a kite, flying free, feeling the air rush around me, but that I would also be safe because there was someone I trusted holding the end of the string. That I could call out, and he would be there to reel me back in.

Then three weeks into making this decision and putting everything into motion, he told me he had been having sex with someone else. That he was only telling me because she had found me on social media, and that she was threatening to tell me, that he otherwise had no intention of telling me. That should have been the end of it, which would have been hard enough. But no. I was willing to forgive and try again, because there was so much good, and I understood that he was so scared of getting hurt again (and I was scared of losing my anchor). So a few more days and weeks of pain and conversation. But ultimately, he was unwilling, and he walked away.

Since then, I have continued to move down this path to leave this life I know. Not because I am flooded with feelings of excitement and joy and revelry. But because I know I have to. Because I know an opportunity like this only comes around once in a lifetime. I know I am not where I want to be, where I’m supposed to be. I know I’ll regret if it I don’t do it, and I need to turn towards my fear.

But I have felt like a zombie these last six weeks. Going through the motions, doing what needs to be done to get the house on the market, my law practice transitioned, and my life into boxes.

And I’ve been desperately trying to find another anchor. It hasn’t been pretty, and I’m not proud of it. In my fear, I’ve been looking at jobs, men, anything to give my life some sort of meaning, some sort of shape, some sort of grounding. But because I’m exhausted both from work and from heartbreak, my desperate grasping has been toward futile ends. The men are only those who are unavailable so that I know they can’t hurt me, and I don’t actually apply to the jobs so I can’t be rejected.

There is a trail in Forest Park that I turn to when I’m feeling scattered, unsure, lost. There typically are very few people on it. And I go out there and I talk. Out loud. I don’t really know what or who I’m talking to. Whether it’s God, a higher power, the Universe, I don’t know. I don’t need to know. I just know that when I feel scattered, I go to the woods.

My trail. (Yep, it’s mine.)

So on Sunday, George and I headed to the trail. When I knew no one else was around, I looked up at the tops of the trees and started talking (maybe yelling). “I feel so lost. I am so fucking lost. What the hell am I doing? I’m about to have no home, no job, no career, no relationship. What the hell? I am so lost. So lost. So scared. What the fuck am I supposed to do? What do you want me to do?”

Through my anger and through my tears came a voice that was not mine, that lovingly and simply said, “Be lost.”

Be lost.

I stopped walking. I laughed. And I agreed. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be lost.”

A gift from my dear friend. This coin is living in my pocket.

This next chapter of my life is an act of faith. A practice in faith. Faith in me, my higher power, and the people in my life. I am going to practice trusting myself, believing in myself, believe that I, alone, am enough. I still need my people. I still want a partner in this life. I still want to find a job/career/thing that allows me to be of service and fuels my passion. All those things are true. And, for now, I will let myself be lost.