A while back a friend of mine e-mailed me describing some stresses she was having with her family life. She introduced the topic by saying she'd been catching up on my blog and didn't know how I could manage to be so "zen" about everything, even when it was hard. Immediately I sat down to reply, wanting to disabuse her of any idea that I somehow manage to maintain perfect calm and balance in the thick of this parenting and married life.
It's important to me to be an open, honest person, and not to pretend that my life is a bowl of cherries when it feels like a bowl of shit. I believe that we liberate others to be themselves when we can show who we really are: imperfect homes, parenting mistakes, relationship struggles and all. How intimidating and unapproachable are those people who seem to have it all together, who never admit to the struggles that frankly, we all face in our daily lives. I want my friends and family to feel safe revealing the good, bad and ugly with me, to know they can leave their dirty socks on my living room floor because I offer a place of comfort over a place of perfection. So I try to tell the truth, without veering into negativity, because I am blessed in countless ways.
That being said, I think we all present different faces to different people depending on the context and relationship. If we could be a fly on the wall in most people's homes we would see sides of them we have never seen. It's not a matter of not being genuine, it's a matter of having boundaries and of choosing how I want to be perceived, and what I want to put out into the world.
When I started this blog, I wanted it to be an honest place to talk about the struggles and joys that go with parenting and trying to live in accord with my values. But I also wanted it to be a positive place, a place of reflection, and a place where readers could find solutions or at least some small comfort that they are not alone, and it is not as bad as they thought. It's also important to respect my family's privacy, so you will never see me writing here about marital issues, and my extended family's personal problems, or certain aspects of my child's life (especially as he grows). That doesn't mean those things aren't happening and affecting me daily.
Still, I generally try to stay positive, to practice gratitude and to give of myself to the people I love and to my community. I make it a priority to maintain my inner peace, so whenever something throws me off balance, I like to try to address it right away. The problem is, as life moves forward and changes, often the balance point shifts, and I lose sight of the fact that I am toppling down, down, down into burnout and exhaustion. This is what has been happening lately, and if you had been a fly on our wall this week you would have seen a side of me that even I haven't seen since I was a teenager, a person filled with rage, throwing things, crying, out of control. I blew my top.
There is no-one to blame in it, nobody intentionally made me angry that day. What happened is this. I got pregnant in early February. That cat's out of the bag now. As happens in early pregnancy, my body started sucking my energy down into my womb, building another person, new organs, blood, and a volatile cocktail of hormones. I became tired and testy, and I craved solitude and quiet time. But we were moving. So I packed, cleaned, ran errands and arranged details. I also decided to take on night weaning because I saw it as the first step in a process of getting the Boodge into total sleep independence before the baby came. Sleep became severely disrupted--pile on the exhaustion.
After we moved, many friends and family came to visit to check out the new home and offer help where they could. It was lovely to see them all, and generous of them to travel and give their time to help us. I am grateful, and to show my gratitude I worked hard to suppress my craving for solitude and peace and to hide my exhaustion and irritability. Instead I cleaned, made yummy meals, and forced myself to be cheerful and loving with my guests. And I did feel cheerful and loving. But when each person left and I had a day or two until the next, I felt myself decompressing, trying to soak up the emptiness of the house and the safety of being with my little family.
There's another side to all of this, which is part of who I am. We all have ways of coping with stress. If you study psychology, you learn that there are some pretty typical patterns. There's the person who buries their head in the sand, or runs away somehow through work, substance abuse, shopping, or whatever his or her drug of choice happens to be. There's the person that creates more drama and chaos, so that all resources and attention go their way (this can be a great way to stop parents from fighting when you're a kid). And there's people like me, who go into super-caretaking mode, unconsciously stuffing my own needs away and instead making sure everyone and everything around me is getting what they need to make this stress a bit less stressful. Because if they're OK, I'm OK, right?
I used to be much worse than I am now. But still, when stress hits, it's easy to revert to old habits. Plus, my whole life was shifting--home, town, and body. Hormones are affecting me in ways I don't understand. That makes it harder to consult the inner compass and see that I'm straying off course.
So the last of the visitors left last weekend and I felt my soul reach for "me" time. But then my son had little wee naps and refused to go to bed early but woke up at 6am anyway, and so my days dragged on in exhaustion, I got no time to myself, and my resentment began to build. Finally, on Thursday, after finally getting the little dude to sleep only to have him wake up the MINUTE I finished doing what I had to do and sat down to relax, I blew.
It was ugly. I scared myself, and probably also my husband and child. And I felt embarrassed afterwards. But I also realized that I had let it get to this point by ignoring, suppressing, telling myself I could do it, just a little longer, just hold it together. Eventually, the body and soul have to send a clear signal, and mine did. Two days later, I came down with a flu.
So here I am on the other side, reminded that I am not superwoman. I realize that some of the long term parenting practice I have, such as nursing my babe to sleep and always being the one to comfort him in the night, have got to change. There's a new kid in town now, and the little peanut is already carving out some space for him/herself. And Mama needs her space too. As a dear friend told me the other day, I'm the most important one, because I'm the Mama. But that is so hard to believe, with all the sacrifice of self that motherhood demands, and all the cultural mythology of the perfect, all giving mother that is out there.
It's time to make some changes, set some boundaries, and ask for help. And I have begun that process. It shouldn't be that hard, but for me, it often is. I feel guilty, and I get down on myself for not being the person I could've or should've been. I wonder, just as my friend who e-mailed me did, how other people can handle it all so well when I can't. But I suspect everyone has moments like these.
So I guess I wanted to share this with you all, not to invite your pity or sympathy, but just to admit the truth, and hope that you all recognize that truth in yourselves too. Hope that I am not alone. And to remind myself, and you all, that the expectations we set for ourselves in life are just expectations, and just our own. It is only a matter of giving ourselves permission to be human, and to do differently. I hope you can be better than I have been lately at listening to that voice inside you telling you what you need to change. It's always in there, but it is all too easy to ignore.
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Growing Pains
In the last week or so there have been many moments I've wanted to sit down and blog but then I thought, "Why don't I just spare everyone the screeching sound of my whine." I just haven't been in a very good space lately. It feels like everything is happening at once and for a week and a half there I was exhausted, short-tempered, and all "woe is me, I can't handle this", which is not my usual self.
Night weaning has been more challenging than I thought. All the research I did seemed to indicate that in a week or two, shabam, the baby would be sleeping through the night. But we have one of those awesome, dynamic, complex, fun, energetic type babies who defies categorization. For him so far, night weaning has meant sleeping much less at night.
The main thing is that it seems to have thrown off his whole digestive cycle, so that while previously he was pretty, er, regular....suddenly he was having 4 poos a day. Unfortunately, the last poo would come in the late evening. It became a very frustrating routine--try to get him to sleep for almost an hour, give up and bring him into the living room, and watch him immediately grunt one out. Eureka! Then he would fall asleep immediately.
After last Saturday night's fiasco, I re-evaluated and realized that if he goes to bed at 8:00 then 7 hours without nursing (our planned goal) comes at 3 am. And by poo indications, his body was used to the cycle of nursing he had gotten into, so maybe he truly was hungry by the time I refused to nurse him at the 4am wake up and that was keeping him up. He's not a good eater by day, and still gets a lot of nutrition from my milk. So I decided to ease it up a bit, and let him nurse at that 4am wake up, and drop it after he seemed used to the 7-8 hour stretch.
Sadly, though, that nursing seems to kick his system into gear and he's been waking up at 5:30, on average, ready to get down and grunt one out again. So...for about a week and a half he's been late to bed, early to rise, and we've all been at the mercy of his bowels.
This would be manageable stuff if it wasn't for the two complicating factors: first, we're moving, and second, he's almost 2 now. So take one exhausted, busy to distraction mother and one exhausted, confused by all the boxes baby who has recently learned what a temper tantrum is and--you probably can imagine the rest. He's been regularly treating us to fantastic displays of his emerging will, in the form of crying and repeating his demands: "Move chair, move chair"; "No pants, no pants," over and over, accompanied by sobbing and screaming.
If I'm centered, I can usually find a way to approach him gently, hold him tight, remove him to a calm space, and sing him into peace again. If I'm not centered, which is often lately, I find myself responding more like "Boodge, I said NO MOVE CHAIR! I'm not moving the chair! You've got to CALM DOWN! Fine, just cry, I'm going to read this magazine. Whatever!" It's not a response I feel proud of, and it doesn't help the situation one iota.
They say you can ignore these tantrums and just let them pass over, and that's what I thought I would do. Not exactly ignore...but lovingly witness. I don't mind sitting with him while he releases all the pent up frustration and confusion he's feeling over the changes in his life and his own powerlessness in the world. But it goes on for so long, and I can't help feeling like if I don't step in and actively help him regain control of his body and spirit, it will never end. My loving, passive presence just doesn't seem to be enough.
So that's why I've been sparing you regular blogging rants about how miserable I am. But things do seem to be stabilizing. He actually slept until 6:30 today, and getting up at 6:30 has never felt so good. And he seems to be grunting out that last poo earlier, or not at all the last few nights. So we're all starting to get a little more sleep again, and sleep is a magic elixir.
Also, my mother-in-law has swooped in the last two days and worked maniacally, cleaning out the fridge, oven, closets, drawers and washing the walls. This has gotten me off my sorry ass too, and between us we've pretty much got this move licked. This side of it, anyway, and my Mama is coming to help on the other end. All that working has resulted in a few more meltdowns on the Boodge's part, but I'm getting better at handling them with compassion and calm. And he's getting into the action too:
That there is the cleanest spot of wall you've ever seen in your life.
So I think we're gonna make it after all. We're stretching and growing over here, feeling the pains of it, but reaching deeper and finding again that we can survive. I will try to remain grateful for the blessings that change brings, and welcome the new growth in my child and myself. After all, as Sean's Irish uncle Tom said to me, "These are all wonderful problems to have."
Night weaning has been more challenging than I thought. All the research I did seemed to indicate that in a week or two, shabam, the baby would be sleeping through the night. But we have one of those awesome, dynamic, complex, fun, energetic type babies who defies categorization. For him so far, night weaning has meant sleeping much less at night.
The main thing is that it seems to have thrown off his whole digestive cycle, so that while previously he was pretty, er, regular....suddenly he was having 4 poos a day. Unfortunately, the last poo would come in the late evening. It became a very frustrating routine--try to get him to sleep for almost an hour, give up and bring him into the living room, and watch him immediately grunt one out. Eureka! Then he would fall asleep immediately.
After last Saturday night's fiasco, I re-evaluated and realized that if he goes to bed at 8:00 then 7 hours without nursing (our planned goal) comes at 3 am. And by poo indications, his body was used to the cycle of nursing he had gotten into, so maybe he truly was hungry by the time I refused to nurse him at the 4am wake up and that was keeping him up. He's not a good eater by day, and still gets a lot of nutrition from my milk. So I decided to ease it up a bit, and let him nurse at that 4am wake up, and drop it after he seemed used to the 7-8 hour stretch.
Sadly, though, that nursing seems to kick his system into gear and he's been waking up at 5:30, on average, ready to get down and grunt one out again. So...for about a week and a half he's been late to bed, early to rise, and we've all been at the mercy of his bowels.
This would be manageable stuff if it wasn't for the two complicating factors: first, we're moving, and second, he's almost 2 now. So take one exhausted, busy to distraction mother and one exhausted, confused by all the boxes baby who has recently learned what a temper tantrum is and--you probably can imagine the rest. He's been regularly treating us to fantastic displays of his emerging will, in the form of crying and repeating his demands: "Move chair, move chair"; "No pants, no pants," over and over, accompanied by sobbing and screaming.
If I'm centered, I can usually find a way to approach him gently, hold him tight, remove him to a calm space, and sing him into peace again. If I'm not centered, which is often lately, I find myself responding more like "Boodge, I said NO MOVE CHAIR! I'm not moving the chair! You've got to CALM DOWN! Fine, just cry, I'm going to read this magazine. Whatever!" It's not a response I feel proud of, and it doesn't help the situation one iota.
They say you can ignore these tantrums and just let them pass over, and that's what I thought I would do. Not exactly ignore...but lovingly witness. I don't mind sitting with him while he releases all the pent up frustration and confusion he's feeling over the changes in his life and his own powerlessness in the world. But it goes on for so long, and I can't help feeling like if I don't step in and actively help him regain control of his body and spirit, it will never end. My loving, passive presence just doesn't seem to be enough.
So that's why I've been sparing you regular blogging rants about how miserable I am. But things do seem to be stabilizing. He actually slept until 6:30 today, and getting up at 6:30 has never felt so good. And he seems to be grunting out that last poo earlier, or not at all the last few nights. So we're all starting to get a little more sleep again, and sleep is a magic elixir.
Also, my mother-in-law has swooped in the last two days and worked maniacally, cleaning out the fridge, oven, closets, drawers and washing the walls. This has gotten me off my sorry ass too, and between us we've pretty much got this move licked. This side of it, anyway, and my Mama is coming to help on the other end. All that working has resulted in a few more meltdowns on the Boodge's part, but I'm getting better at handling them with compassion and calm. And he's getting into the action too:
That there is the cleanest spot of wall you've ever seen in your life.
So I think we're gonna make it after all. We're stretching and growing over here, feeling the pains of it, but reaching deeper and finding again that we can survive. I will try to remain grateful for the blessings that change brings, and welcome the new growth in my child and myself. After all, as Sean's Irish uncle Tom said to me, "These are all wonderful problems to have."
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Goin' Up The Country
Last Saturday Sean and I left the house together, without the Boodge. I think this has happened a grand total of 2 or 3 other times since he has been born. The occasion? We went to the credit union to sign and initial here and there and everywhere to get our new mortgage, line of credit, back account, insurance, tax bill. And that's only the beginning of the paperwork--we still have to meet with the lawyer. What began with house hunting in Ontario has ended with the purchase of a house with a shop and 15,000 square feet of land in Mission, BC.
What do we know about Mission? Not much. There's a Mission there, atop a mountain of beautiful, old growth forest. There's a raceway, too (Me: Ugh. Sean: YAY!). The town's 35,000 people have a median age of 36. According to one website, it was built to resemble a small Ontario town, and the main drag there does remind me, vaguely, of the ones I've seen in Renfrew and Belleville. There's one yoga studio that I can find on the web, and one natural foods store. Some of our friends told us "It's redneck out there, you'll see." Others say it's the Bible belt. We figure there have to be lots of good, everyday people out there that we can connect with.
At first we were alternately scared and excited. We have been swimming in a world of mortgage brokers (when he pulled out his own shoe horn at the end of the visit and slickly slipped into his shoe, I knew we couldn't work with him), bankers, lawyers, inspectors, and figures. Now we are moving through rooms of boxes and half packed cabinets. Home improvement shows are suddenly interesting. We are about to take on a responsibiity that we anticipate will be like having a child, in that it will be a ton more work, but will also gift us with amazing growth and pleasure.
I'm going to plant a garden. Ardan is going to run in the yard and dig in the dirt and make friends with bugs and worms and raccoons and flowers he can pick because they're in his own yard, not the park. We're going to learn about plumbing and flooring. We may even be landlords, because the house has a one bedroom suite that can pay almost half our mortgage payments. That is, once we change the carpet, re-floor the kitchen, and paint the whole thing. Painting with a toddler could be fun, right? Right???
One of the best things is that there is space for visitors to stay a while and be comfortable. I am dreaming of having family and friends visit and stay for a while, enjoying good meals, playing games, and having peaceful space for themselves. I dream of creating a warm, happy haven for ourselves and others. So make my dream come true everyone, and come experience Mission with us. Our spare bed will be opening in March. Oh, and don't forget to bring your painting clothes.
What do we know about Mission? Not much. There's a Mission there, atop a mountain of beautiful, old growth forest. There's a raceway, too (Me: Ugh. Sean: YAY!). The town's 35,000 people have a median age of 36. According to one website, it was built to resemble a small Ontario town, and the main drag there does remind me, vaguely, of the ones I've seen in Renfrew and Belleville. There's one yoga studio that I can find on the web, and one natural foods store. Some of our friends told us "It's redneck out there, you'll see." Others say it's the Bible belt. We figure there have to be lots of good, everyday people out there that we can connect with.
At first we were alternately scared and excited. We have been swimming in a world of mortgage brokers (when he pulled out his own shoe horn at the end of the visit and slickly slipped into his shoe, I knew we couldn't work with him), bankers, lawyers, inspectors, and figures. Now we are moving through rooms of boxes and half packed cabinets. Home improvement shows are suddenly interesting. We are about to take on a responsibiity that we anticipate will be like having a child, in that it will be a ton more work, but will also gift us with amazing growth and pleasure.
I'm going to plant a garden. Ardan is going to run in the yard and dig in the dirt and make friends with bugs and worms and raccoons and flowers he can pick because they're in his own yard, not the park. We're going to learn about plumbing and flooring. We may even be landlords, because the house has a one bedroom suite that can pay almost half our mortgage payments. That is, once we change the carpet, re-floor the kitchen, and paint the whole thing. Painting with a toddler could be fun, right? Right???
One of the best things is that there is space for visitors to stay a while and be comfortable. I am dreaming of having family and friends visit and stay for a while, enjoying good meals, playing games, and having peaceful space for themselves. I dream of creating a warm, happy haven for ourselves and others. So make my dream come true everyone, and come experience Mission with us. Our spare bed will be opening in March. Oh, and don't forget to bring your painting clothes.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Oh, to blog again....
It's not that I don't want to blog. I think about posts all the time, I write them in the shower, I write them while nursing the little dude, I write them while running errands with the stroller. But I don't write them when I have time to sit down and write them because there always seems to be something more pressing to do. That, and the computer itself is a bottomless pit of distraction, what with all those other bloggers to read, and the endless news, recipes, advice, curiosities, just a few clicks away. It seems since I became a mom, I've been practicing divided attention so much that my neural pathways are laying down all splintered. Didn't I used to be able to sit down for hours and hours working on something, becoming totally engrossed? Now, even when I have a couple of clear hours, I find my mind and body still moving in all directions.
But what matters is that I come back. So here I am again. I'm working on 2 things to get better at blogging. First, not wasting time on TV and the Internet. Sure, there's lots of interesting stuff out there...but does any of it really matter? Does it excite me and inspire me and clear me out like writing? Nope. Second, I'm going to stop trying to make every post "something"--some nicely wrapped up piece, some in depth exploration of what I'm going through. I'm just going to post. It's not like anyone who reads this isn't directly related to me through blood, friendship, or facebook.
The truth is, my attention is divided, and my time is scarce. We're moving in a month, so there's all the packing and phone calling that goes with that. At nap time, I can blog or do yoga for my pleasure, or do chores for the good of everyone--so blogging has some fierce competition. Not to mention I joined a writing group to develop my thesis ("Counsellors' Experience of the Ethical Dimensions Involved in Social Justice Advocacy"--catch title, no?) into an article for publication, and that is a nice big SHOULD over my head all the time. But I'm going to try to come here more often because it makes me feel good to write, and I really do want to document the changes in myself and my family.
And that is all for today, folks, in the interests of learning how to not make it "something". Happy New Year everyone.
But what matters is that I come back. So here I am again. I'm working on 2 things to get better at blogging. First, not wasting time on TV and the Internet. Sure, there's lots of interesting stuff out there...but does any of it really matter? Does it excite me and inspire me and clear me out like writing? Nope. Second, I'm going to stop trying to make every post "something"--some nicely wrapped up piece, some in depth exploration of what I'm going through. I'm just going to post. It's not like anyone who reads this isn't directly related to me through blood, friendship, or facebook.
The truth is, my attention is divided, and my time is scarce. We're moving in a month, so there's all the packing and phone calling that goes with that. At nap time, I can blog or do yoga for my pleasure, or do chores for the good of everyone--so blogging has some fierce competition. Not to mention I joined a writing group to develop my thesis ("Counsellors' Experience of the Ethical Dimensions Involved in Social Justice Advocacy"--catch title, no?) into an article for publication, and that is a nice big SHOULD over my head all the time. But I'm going to try to come here more often because it makes me feel good to write, and I really do want to document the changes in myself and my family.
And that is all for today, folks, in the interests of learning how to not make it "something". Happy New Year everyone.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Past the tipping point, getting twitchy.....
We’ve just returned from a whirlwind tour of Southern Ontario, visiting family and, yes, house hunting. I never thought I would consider moving back to Ontario until my husband brought it up about 6 weeks ago. BC has become my home since I landed here almost 10 years ago determined to put down some roots and mend the wounds of my life’s journey to that point. And this province and the people I’ve met here have done that, and beyond. I have a community of friends and family here that feels good, and the place fits me in so many ways. My husband has always lived here and has close friendships dating back 20 years and his entire family nearby. It would be painful to leave, we would miss so much—and staying would be fine if that’s what ends up happening.
Bur for Sean and I it’s the first time we’ve been ready to seriously entertain the idea of buying a place, and we’re looking at all options in the quest for where to settle ourselves next. Living in the Vancouver real estate market can be discouraging—if you didn’t get in 10 years ago at prices that already seemed inflated, you are pretty limited in your options. It seems for the 6 years we’ve been together we have idly looked at real estate listings and daydreamed about a place that seemed far out of reach. Now that we have our little mini-man it all seems even more important to have a spot we can grow in and call our own (and the bank’s). We’ve waited, biding our time in an apartment and saving our money in the hopes that the market will turn.
I’m not complaining—I feel I am already fortunate and blessed beyond what many experience. Still…every time I load up the Boodge in his stroller with his portable toys and snacks and take him to the park I think about how it would be if he could run in his own yard. I think about planting a garden with him, showing him how to cook the food and enjoying it together. Right now I am thinking about how I could sunbathe or do yoga in the backyard sunshine while he naps (and yes, I’d rather be doing that than writing this). I think about him having a room of his own and being able to scream with glee or fury without my worrying about the neighbours. And I think about him growing up near my parents, and his cousins, people I love dearly and want in his life and mine.
In Ontario, when we looked at the possibilities, we were inflated rather than deflated. We kept reading listings going “Listen to THIS” and then recited lists that amazed us—2 acres, 20 acres, waterfront, swimming pool, old brick house, outbuildings, 4 bedrooms, stunning views….. “Guess how much?” And then we would announce what seems, by BC standards, to be a ridiculously low price in an incredulous voice. We had so many conversations that began with “We could….we would, we could…”
Possibility. It felt good, and sweet. People like us, who work hard and make good income, can actually have a nice place there. Imagine! And coming home, I felt ready to make a leap into a home of our own (and the bank's)and a more rural existence.
But now we’ve been home a week, and the trip has already faded. We’re in limbo until Sean sits down with his employer and figures out if he can move and stay employed with them—which should happen next week. Being in a state of uncertainty is hard, especially when you’re twitching to jump off the cliff and free fall into whatever is next. I get bummed, and restless. Some may say, impatient.
Ah, maturity. Adulthood. We’ve been so careful—we tend to be slow (sometimes I think too slow) to major decisions, and now we’ve arrived in this wonderful place where we have lots of appealing choices before us. So appealing that it’s bittersweet, because we won’t be able to realize all the possibilities, and will have to accept some loss with whatever choice we make. Still, staying the same is not an option anymore, and the future looks bright. So let’s go there, I say, and see what it has in store.
Bur for Sean and I it’s the first time we’ve been ready to seriously entertain the idea of buying a place, and we’re looking at all options in the quest for where to settle ourselves next. Living in the Vancouver real estate market can be discouraging—if you didn’t get in 10 years ago at prices that already seemed inflated, you are pretty limited in your options. It seems for the 6 years we’ve been together we have idly looked at real estate listings and daydreamed about a place that seemed far out of reach. Now that we have our little mini-man it all seems even more important to have a spot we can grow in and call our own (and the bank’s). We’ve waited, biding our time in an apartment and saving our money in the hopes that the market will turn.
I’m not complaining—I feel I am already fortunate and blessed beyond what many experience. Still…every time I load up the Boodge in his stroller with his portable toys and snacks and take him to the park I think about how it would be if he could run in his own yard. I think about planting a garden with him, showing him how to cook the food and enjoying it together. Right now I am thinking about how I could sunbathe or do yoga in the backyard sunshine while he naps (and yes, I’d rather be doing that than writing this). I think about him having a room of his own and being able to scream with glee or fury without my worrying about the neighbours. And I think about him growing up near my parents, and his cousins, people I love dearly and want in his life and mine.
In Ontario, when we looked at the possibilities, we were inflated rather than deflated. We kept reading listings going “Listen to THIS” and then recited lists that amazed us—2 acres, 20 acres, waterfront, swimming pool, old brick house, outbuildings, 4 bedrooms, stunning views….. “Guess how much?” And then we would announce what seems, by BC standards, to be a ridiculously low price in an incredulous voice. We had so many conversations that began with “We could….we would, we could…”
Possibility. It felt good, and sweet. People like us, who work hard and make good income, can actually have a nice place there. Imagine! And coming home, I felt ready to make a leap into a home of our own (and the bank's)and a more rural existence.
But now we’ve been home a week, and the trip has already faded. We’re in limbo until Sean sits down with his employer and figures out if he can move and stay employed with them—which should happen next week. Being in a state of uncertainty is hard, especially when you’re twitching to jump off the cliff and free fall into whatever is next. I get bummed, and restless. Some may say, impatient.
Ah, maturity. Adulthood. We’ve been so careful—we tend to be slow (sometimes I think too slow) to major decisions, and now we’ve arrived in this wonderful place where we have lots of appealing choices before us. So appealing that it’s bittersweet, because we won’t be able to realize all the possibilities, and will have to accept some loss with whatever choice we make. Still, staying the same is not an option anymore, and the future looks bright. So let’s go there, I say, and see what it has in store.
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