Perpetual Purgatory

Purgatory means different things to different people. Though I consider myself to be spiritual, I am in no way religious, so ixnay on the Catholic definition of purgatory for me (though I was raised in a pseudo-Catholic home). For me, purgatory represents the idea of a place where waiting takes place. Think of it as a giant waiting room (at a clinic, office, or anywhere else they make you wait before they see you).

Like with any waiting room, you tend to be miserable and perhaps feel tortured (can't change the TV, sitting next to a creep, forgot to bring something to read and your cell battery died, the old person next to you is coughing on you, it's really cold and you have no sweater...you get the picture). But the worst feeling has got to be the endless anxiety of not knowing what will actually happen when they call you in.

Purgatory is meant to be temporary, as are waiting rooms, a last chance to suck it up and deal with whatever is coming your way (hell, heaven, job interview, etc.). Sometimes, though, it can feel never-ending and that creates the worst anxiety.

I live in perpetual purgatory. I'm on a perma-transition mode when it comes to both career and personal choices. I keep waiting for someone to call my name and open the door to let me in, out of the white-walled dead-flower-smelling waiting room I've been hanging out in for at least the last 10 years.

Though it is true that I feed off of the excitement coupled with uncertainty of pursuing something new, age is taking a toll. My patience has worn thin. I can't wait anymore.

I honestly don't know what awaits me, but I'm ready to find out, even if I have to buzz myself in.

World, here I come!