The Waiting Game

One of the things that made me miserable in Boston was really no one's fault but mine. I spent a lot of time waiting.

I waited for Adam to get home from work, waited for him to stop working while at home or on the weekend, waited for him to stop thinking about work--waited until he was able to give me his full attention so we can spend time together. And then when he was finally finished with work, it was late and we needed to get ready to sleep (so we can work the next day.) It was a waiting game that often didnt work out.

And while I waited, I did almost nothing--unless you call Facebook games, online  shopping, contributing to pointless yelp forums "something".

I've often told people that I felt stunted in Boston--intellectually, socially, professionally.   I did nothing after work, not even read. I'd cook, and clean, and then wait. A lot of people probably wouldnt wait. They'd realign their focus elsewhere and sometimes it works out because you're not waiting, and then sometimes the two of you  grow a part, eventually.  For me, i just obtusely, unthinkingly waited, without any conscious awareness of how bored and lonely I became. And then I'd mourn for another lost day, for the loss of another day of youth and potential. (Perhaps it's my pessimism talking, but I can't help but feel that the older you get, the less possibilities in life..)

I know that I had no one but myself to blame for this; my parents have always warned me that I am too dependent.  Yes, it's true. And then the back lash. Now I'm here, alone, doing my own thing, going to places, feeling more fulfilled, with a sacrifice of something I had lost along the way.

But it doesn't need to be like this. It doesn't have to be one way or the other.

I shouldn't need to be mad at myself for waiting. I just have to stop waiting, that's all.  Find the balance between over-dependence and over-independence.

Or, something else altogether? I'll figure it out. Life kinda makes you.

For now, I'm ok.