despite knowing better, there’ve been times in my life i’ve waited for rescue. sometimes i still do. i wish i were as unerringly courageous and wise as a jane austen heroine, but then i remember, jane’s characters often learned through their own prideful mistakes. lessons usually delivered crisply via handwritten letter on a silver tray or at a country ball on a warm summer night.
i’ve been rescued more than once, been thrown just the right line at the exact right time. a much better job when i’d just quit one without another lined up. the exact right words of advice, kindly delivered, when i was too untethered to trust myself, too lost and self-absorbed to see anything beyond my own claustrophobic world view.
i’m better now, better all the time, at kicking myself in the behind when i realize i’m waiting for forces outside me to fix my life. it may be a self-help cliche, but it’s a true one. a useful one.
we’re lucky if we have a handful of people who can be there for us in the moments we waver. because, truly, the world at large is indifferent. and yet, every day is fresh-scrubbed for us, presented to us like the bluest sky.