Spill It Part IV

This past week, I've been on one long emotional roller coaster that doesn't show signs of slowing down just yet. I'm so exhausted.
As soon as I feel better, I relapse into feeling sad again and questioning what I've done and if there is anything I can do. I'm not ready to put my heartbreak to rest; it's like a wildfire right now that's been contained but not extinguished.
I've been trying to look toward the future. I feel nervous because in some ways, my future seems very uncertain. How much longer will I live in San Francisco? Ever since moving here, I've entertained the idea that I would move one day, most likely to Seattle, unless my life was so great or established here that I wouldn't want to leave.
I'm starting to see that I've been wrestling with the same fears for a long time: fear that my relationship with the person we shall call J would never progress, that I would never be able to afford buy a home in San Francisco, that my career would become stagnant, that I will never find a partner to be happy with and that one day I would be forced to leave San Francisco even if I didn't want to.
I think this has to do with my age and the fact that I am getting a place where I want to take to steps forward, but I don't feel like I much to chose from like a buffet table that's been raided.
The word "empty" keeps coming to my mind these days. Why am I so afraid of the clean slate life is presenting me?
It's like being at the end of a road or standing at the bank of a river with no bridge to cross. I'd love to move forward, but where will my foot land?

Not too long ago, I flipped by the Catholic channel on cable and watched a few minutes of an elderly nun answering questions. She said at one point, "The past is dead, the future is unborn." She was responding to a question about learning to accept sins we have committed and that God does forgive. I kept thinking about that quote, especially in relation to J, and kept thinking, so what if we've had problems in the past, we have the future to look forward to? Now, of course, the future is not an option. I think that's what hurts me the most — the knowledge that I will never be able to fix or overcome mistakes or challenges from the past.
I recognize that I was passive aggressive and that I thought I avoiding confrontation meant things would be okay, both of which were destructive on my part. Nonetheless, I also learned that I can forgive, be patient, and that I have a very generous heart full of hope. I love giving love and now that I can't love the person I love, it really hurts. My mother often says, La esperanza muere al ultimo or Hope dies last (sounds better in Spanish, no?). My hope is not dead, it just needs a new home.