Feeling Adrift

I miss the questions.

As I was walking recently and pondering what is different about my life since embarking on my self-created twelve step program to leave co-dependence behind, this is what cropped up.  I miss the questions.

One of the traits of my particular brand of co-dependence was constant inquiry. I viewed it as caring curiosity or research or deep diving for pearls of a problem. I was from the Co-Dependent Corps, and I was here to help. Never did I think of myself as a Nosy Parker (aside here because I cannot let learning fall completely by the way: MATTHEW PARKER, who was Archbishop of Canterbury (1559-75), had rather a reputation for prying into the affairs of others. He therefore acquired the nickname 'Nosey Parker'.)

Now that I am no longer shoehorning myself into other people’s lives, I have a lot of free time. I have ceased to need to know what is going on in the intimate details I used to so relish.  If I am not in charge of their day-to-day activities, I have no need to know their comings and goings as I once did. As I await being asked to help, I do not need to accumulate all the data so that I will be ready to pounce the moment an opening appears. I am living in the moment. It is a love/hate relationship with the new ME.

When chatting with friends I am asked about various people in my life. When it comes time for an update about events, I find myself wanting these days.  “I don’t know,” seems to have become my new normal. It feels empty and lovely all at the same time.

When I realized that I missed the questions, I began my process of benefits and drawbacks to this dilemma. It frees up a lot of storage space. I no longer need to be the repository of other people’s information. So then I question whether or not to downsize the facility.  Can I give up some of my units or do I simply empty them and fill them up with my own stuff? Do I put people in smaller pods? Who am I without their information? I feel like a newsroom that contains only me and the constant feed into my earpiece has been silenced.

I do not know if I am sad or happy. I think I am both. As I get acclimated to this way of living, I find joy and peace in the expansion of my time and space. On the other hand, I can feel as though I am rattling around in a giant building without much to do. Currently I am resisting the urge to fill it up, but there is a restlessness that says I need to find ways to use this abundance. There are things for me to do and if I am honest, I know what they are, but I have resisted them for years using others as my reasons for inaction.

Maybe it is not the questions I miss as much as the excuses.