on the fringe

if I were a dancer, I would be gracefully perched on the edge...
dangling a toe, brushing the tip gently against the surface
elegantly calm; poised.
caressing life's tapestry;
leaving the smallest of indentations on the assortment of collected people and experiences and threads that make up my personal quilt

-- lml

The problem is that I am not a dancer. I am not graceful and elegant.
I feel so clunky. I feel like I fidget and fuss and can't settle.
I feel like I am this noisy, diesel-fueled, beater car that has dings and scuffs, and shakes when you drive it. The kind of car that people look at and say, "It must have been cute in it's prime..."

And that's the crux, right there. When is/was my prime?

I feel incredibly ancient today: I see youthfulness and vigor; an effortless easiness that crops up in conversations "Like, oh my god, I was so, like, pissed!" I see passionate strong, unique, independent, individuals carving out their paths. With energy and vitality and fun.

and I falter. I think I must be fortysomething?
...carrying around the age of my years. Years that feel lost (what have I done with my life?).
Like I am just starting out, carrying all this baggage with me.

And then, I feel incredibly young today: I see bodies breaking down; I see grey sprouting at the roots. I see life passing by; I see people forgetting how to smile and how to play; I see friends molding themselves into pods and families that don't have room for me; I see softness and frailty.

and I falter. I think I must be twentysomething?
... absorbing the vibrancy and energy that comes with asking questions and being curious and challenging the status quo. And wanting to play and laugh and dance.

I know that I am thirtysomething, but it doesn't fit me.
Or does it?

I find this tension in me to be exhausting. Wondering where my home is. Where I am. What to do.

I do know that the answers lie in the present, in being in the moment.
And I struggle to fit into the now.

I want to feel like I'm a part of the puzzle.