I live on the edge. That’s sounds a lot more exciting than I meant it to. I don’t go base jumping or drag racing or chase after other adrenalin-junkie activities. I live on the edge of everyday life. My life as a Venn diagram would be a multi-dimensional collection of soap bubbles that converge on one point, me, touching all of them yet contained within none of them. This is the path I was given to walk, this is my journey through life.
It’s a lonely journey because there is nobody I can truly share with. There are people I can relate to in some ways, and I’ve been blessed beyond belief to find some friends along the way who can share love and support. I will always be the outsider, though. I will always be on the edge of any group. I can go hang out with other autism moms, but I’ll be the only one there with a blind child, the only one homeschooling, the only one choosing not to travel the road of 10,000 doctor’s appointments and therapies. I can join a homeschooling group online and be the only one with disabled children, the only non-Christian, the only one choosing an eclectic path blending unschooling and online learning and book learning. I’m the cyclist in black clothes and helmet-free, I’m the goth mom who doesn’t always wear black, I’m the Wiccan priestess of a Norse god, I’m the southern girl in a northern town, I’m the gardener with a brown thumb, I’m the free-loving bisexual polyamorist with a low sex drive, I’m the white girl on the skating floor, I’m the plantar fasciitis patient finding relief in barefoot living. I’m the one who’s going to say “but”.
I’m not the only one walking the lonely path. Everybody does it, or at least more people than most of us realize. There’s a purpose in this path for me, though. There’s a job here for me to do, a work that is before me. I can’t quite see it yet, but it is there, waiting for me to wake up, to open my spiritual eyes and begin my task. I’m standing on a threshold, a gateway between my old life and the work of the new. Before I can step through the curtain blocking my view ahead, I have to stand firm where I am. I have to stand straight and confident, owning what I have built of my life.
I have to own my place on the edge. I have to feel the power in this place, allow it to make me strong.
I walk a lonely path, a different path. And it is powerful.