I have these days now.
These terribly long, silent days where I live with this overwhelming fear that I’ll end up alone.
I find myself sitting on the floor, no lights on, wearing a T-shirt, coffee in hand, trying to think up some grand escape plan from my life.
There isn’t one.
There is no neon-flashing exit sign.
No lighted path.
There is just me.
And my mind.
I can be so strong some days.
So confident.
I make plans to conquer the world over a breakfast bar on my morning drive and have accomplished incredible things by the time I down a liquid lunch at 4.
But I can’t prepare for these days.
These days when I wonder where I screwed up.
Where I realize that no matter how many ways I try to keep buys, at the end of the day I’m alone.
A doctorate won’t keep me company when as an only child, I bury my parents.
My accomplishments won’t hold my hand.
Being a strong, independent woman is something to be proud of.
It’s also desperately sad.
And so I sit here, in the dark, with my coffee, waiting for a new day, contemplating my failures and flaws.
Because strong, independent women have dark days, too.
