Ominous Velour

I’ve done the things. All the things good little adults are supposed to do. I got married. I had kids. I raised them to adulthood. They both graduated high school without giving me any grandbabies. I resigned myself to living in a place I don’t like to accommodate my husband’s job. I, myself, have a good job with an RRSP and medical benefits. I’m (mostly) out of debt. I don’t own a house but who on Canada under 65 does these days?

I will happily keep my job, as much as I briefly held dreams of going back to school. But I don’t want to be here any more. Wifing is not it for me. My kids don’t need me any more. I can’t afford to travel like I would love to, but the itch to pack up and move thousands of kilometers away to a place I’ve never been and where I don’t know anyone is getting overwhelming. I want to make friends and have a social life. I want to be responsible for absolutely nobody but myself or, preferably, not even that.

I need a break from the numbness.