Saturday, September 24, 2016
Woke up cranky. My husband, bless him, refused to get sucked in. But why am I feeling like this? I don't have good enough reasons, not even chemistry, so what is it? Last night, at dinner with two dear women friends, I thought I'd figured it out: I feel rudderless. Purposeless. My children are doing well, they're launched, as they say, and I'm happy for that, but the great and beloved work of the past two and a half decades of my life—raising them—is largely complete, and what do I do now? My next book project is taking a while to come on line, and I am at such a loose end. The project still looks promising, and the subject matter is important, so fingers crossed that it actually happens, but in the meantime, I don't know what to do with myself. I suppose I should volunteer somewhere, make myself useful, but where? Doing what? Definitely I should attend to my health, which means a round of doctors appointments, and I'm doing that finally. But what will my next great purpose be? Sure, I can get busy with work and distract myself for a while, but then the lull comes, and I find myself asking: Why am I here?