Finding Forty, Day 78; Horizons

Last night, I got home to find a response from A to my email.   I was a bit shocked because he usually doesn't get around to checking my emails for some time (months in a couple of cases).

I read this and I don't know what to say. There has to be hope for us together or apart. What comes next depends on what you and I want. But there is hope. The future's so bright I've got to wear shades.

You are at a low, low point, but I don't think it will get any lower. There's something beautiful over the horizon, you just have to pick the path out of the valley. Keep moving, that's the answer.

His words are bittersweet.  When I read them I feel so many emotions.  I feel guilty because I have such a wise person in my life and I've messed up our marriage, his words also make me feel safe, as if everything will be alright if only I believe.  I even feel hopeful when I read them and determined to move forward.

But with him or without? 

Selfishly, I used to assume it was up to me.    What a foolish thought.    Now I see clearly that he has a say and his say is that we most likely won't be able to work it out.

And how does that make me feel?  Again, quite mixed.   I get this sort of excited sense of relief that is soon swept away by profound sadness and fear.   I cannot accept being wrong as an option, not when my kids are a factor. 

Although, I've never stopped to think about us staying together, making each other miserable as an option that could be wrong too, particularly where our kids are involved.

See how jumbled my brain is?

What I want is happiness, health, laughter and love.   Is that too vague?  I can't even define what I want without questioning if I do it right.

I want my kids to be safe, healthy, and as happy as possible.  I want to be successful at my job.  I want to write and yes, I do dream of being published.

I want to feel comfortable being me, the real me, the one I'm scared to show just about everyone, the one I feel is too weird to fully expose.

I want to feel free and have rich life experiences.   When I'm older, I want to look back on my life and imagine it as a colorful tapestry of woven events, immense in breadth and depth.

And still, I feel like these things I've said I want are too general, too generic.

For the first time ever, I watched Pirates of the Caribbean and mostly enjoyed it.   The final scene made an impact on me.

Having just procured the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow looks out into the distance and tells his crew to point him towards the horizon.

That's precisely where I'm headed as well.