I’m not even sure how to do this. What is my next step? Leaving? Building a bridge? Admitting a wrong? Admitting to myself that my “wrong” is 100% right?
It’s the most outlandish feeling. It’s like all this time I’ve been in a boat on a lake, stuck in a heavy, rolling fog. Then all of a sudden, the fog clears all the way to the shore, and standing there is…me. I’m there on the shore. And I realize the “me” I thought was in the boat is just a ghost. I barely exist, as lacking in substance as the fog. I need to be back with my body. I dunno, that probably only makes sense in my mind, but suddenly I feel both guided and terrified.
The thing is that I’ve already made my choices, LONG ago, years ago. I just haven’t acted on them adequately. My move to New Orleans was one last valiant shot at a working relationship, but I knew even then that it was over. You can read about it between the lines in my first blog post, even. I’ve brought it up with everyone I could possibly use as a sounding board. I’ve discussed it with The Man. Somehow it always gets turned back either on me or our surroundings. I’ve felt buried in this shame that maybe I’m not trying hard enough, that the lack of meaningful connection is somehow all my fault. But it’s not, and now I’m sure of it (at least not all of it – after all, a relationship is the responsibility of both parties.)
I miss passion – physical, emotional, and mental excitement about the people, places and activities around me. The closest I get to that on a daily basis is my work – I love my coworkers, and the challenge of campaign strategy is really satisfying. But I get even closer to that sweet spot with event planning and PR. As I’ve planned for the Fall Fashion Bazaar that’s happening this Saturday, I’ve felt more in tune with myself and my abilities than I have since last year, the first time I put the pop up together.
So why can’t this be my life? I need it to be. Once a year is just not enough. And in the same vein, holding hands once or twice a year, kissing once a month, sharing a decent conversation every few months, baring my soul and being understood almost never – those aren’t going to cut it anymore either. I’m done. I’m made for adventure, and this just isn’t it.
My next step has to be about moving on. Or, to be more precise, finding the money to move on. Then, I’ll have to figure out where to move on TO. Will I stay here, or go try my hand at a new city, with new opportunities? This chain of thought makes me feel old and young at the same time. Do I put it off, or follow my best friend’s advice and just pull the bandaid now? Of course, now would mean that I have no money AND nowhere to go.
I should probably stick with places I know. Austin and Chicago both offer friendship and comfort while I transition back to singlehood, so maybe either of those. New York? Way too expensive, but definitely on my list of desirable destinations. Definitely not North Carolina, so at least that’s one decision made – ha!
Update: I talked with The Man about all of this. He asks for one more chance to prove that everything he’s done, everything he’s become, has all been for “us.” He says he can stop giving his all to his job, and start devoting himself to making me feel loved and supported. I’ll give him that one last chance, but I’m not sure if I can commit 100% to the effort. I feel like I don’t have a drop of energy to add to trying to like him or us any more. I’ve been burned so often that it might just be too difficult to tear down the barriers between the two of us, and give myself over to relaxing and letting myself be loved. It might just be broken for good. Even if it’s not, I’m aware that not being able to believe and trust is going to hurt us just as much. I wish I could just push the reset and walk back into this with starry eyes, but I can’t. I’ve seen greener pastures, and I want to be there.