Ambiguity with a garnish of hate

Doubt and uncertainty are probably two of the things I fear most in this world.  I do not like the unknown.  I need everything spelled out for me in a very bold, yet simple,  font,  free of indistinguishable flourish and rhetoric.  The bottom line being, I need the facts, complete forthrightness  and I would prefer my life’s story not be a mystery.  Unfortunately, this is where I always seem to find myself.  Whether it is the relationship (or the lack thereof) that I have with my parents or the seemingly lack of commitment I’m able to find in love and romance, I’m forever swirling around helplessly in a sea of ambiguity.  None of the pieces of my life’s puzzle ever seem to come together to give me that “Ah Ha” moment!

At nearly 42 years of age, I fear that I have absolutely no insight as to who I am as a woman.  I hate that.  I want to be more than just a daughter or a sister.  I want to be more than just an aunt or an on again/off again girlfriend.  Motherhood will never be a badge of identity that I’ll wear.  I won’t ever look into the face of a child and see my own reflection staring back at me with wide eyes of wonder; but I’m resigned to this.  I don’t ever see myself waking up to my true love knowing that we share a love that will outlast both of our lives.  I seem to be the woman that men are fine with just dating here or there and having impromptu flings but not the woman that a man wants to spend the rest of his life with.  I’m semi-resigned to this.

It’s incredibly difficult to find myself at such an impasse at this point in my life.  I should be settled in my mind and in my heart.  I should know exactly who it is that I represent as a woman and yet I haven’t got a single clue.  I know who I love in this world but I don’t really know who loves me in return.  Words can be spoken but I’ve learned not to put my faith and trust in words.  Words break my heart.  Words hurt me.  Words are empty promises and unfulfilled dreams and aspirations.  Words are invalid as far as I’m concerned.

What I wouldn’t give for one defining glimpse into my identity.  Enlightenment.  I crave it.  I would devour it for its fulfillment yet savor it for its clarity and serenity.  To quote the melodramatics of William Shakespeare, ” ’tis a consummation devoutly to be wished”.

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