I feel twinges of survival mode.  My schedule is busy, with little time for leisure except for when I’m too tired to do anything at all.  The “should do’s,” the “ought-to’s,” and the “need to’s” are taking over my life.  

I did manage to squeeze in a third viewing of Eat, Pray,Love a couple of weeks ago, which left me sobbing, as usual, and I began to wonder what really happens to the lovely lady when she finally utters the beautiful Italian word, attraversiamo

“Let’s cross over,” she giddily surrenders to her sexy man, and they disappear into the sunset, presumably to continue their romantic love affair and live happily ever after. 
Or did they?
Did she unwittingly cross over into a world of self-denial and compromise?  To a life-sentence of sacrificing all other relationships for the sake of one person who may or may not love her in another 5 years?  To a world of unmet expectations, growing resentments, or, worst of all, distance and apathy?
Or did she truly live the fairy tale that every little girl has written upon her heart?
I did some research and discovered that though the two lovers both violently opposed the institution of marriage, eventually they were forced to tie the knot by the American government so he could stay in the country.  And they traded their Bali paradise for a two-bedroom home in… New Jersey – of all places.  I sincerely hope they are happy, but I have my doubts.  If all it took to heal from divorce and find yourself was to gallivant around the globe for a year, judges might make it a mandatory part of all divorce settlements.   

I always thought finding my other half was the answer to any problem Life could summon.  Instead, I found someone, tried to squeeze both of us into his half, and lived unhappily for 17 years.   

I gotta tell ya, I’m scared to death to get in that boat.  

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