Post-Decision Humdrum
I have this problem upon making large decisions. I make it, and I'm excited for one to two months. And then without fail, someone or something changes one small aspect of what the decision entails, and not only do I lose the verve, I get really nervous about it, too. Then, once those nerves build far enough, I drop all of it and cut my losses. It happens all the darn time. Most semesters of college suffered for it. My original selection of going to PA instead of NM did, too. Even my wedding caught it. Sometimes it works out for the better, like when I decided to leave CSU and become a supervisor at the theatre, instead of the other way around. That was one of the best things I've ever done. Without it (and the seasonal depression), I'd never have made some of the best friends I've ever had, including Jeremy. The wedding was sort of halfsies, since I think getting married in November was better timing than January, but it forced me to deal with a crapload of stuff, all at the same time, that I really didn't need on top of a split-second wedding. Some I know were really, really bad, like the first semester it happened at UNM, where I would have had a great deal of cool classes under my belt and felt better about myself and my place in life at the same time. Most, though, end up in that "Who knows?" category. Even the ones I think are bad have aspects of it. Is it a good thing, or a bad thing? Does it improve my future or seriously detract from it? I'd like to say it's my intuition exploding to the foreground after being ignored during the decision-making process, and that even though I'm unaware of it during or after, it's still a good thing. But I don't trust myself enough to do that.
It's happening again with moving back to Colorado. I was 100% gung-ho. I was pulling information together and doing things that needed doing even though I absolutely dreaded it. Some of the research worried me - reality jumping in to remind me that I won't get everything I want, no matter how hard I try, because it's based on desire not numbers - but I was still excited.
And then my mom woke me up to complain about her husband and his son, and it broke. She made it sound like even though she really wants me there, it'll put a cramp in Bill's life. Rather than trying to help her daughter and fight to help me improve my life (when I'm rarin' and ready to do it ASAP), she was wimping around trying to iron out his (even though in the same breath she complained that he doesn't do any of the life-oriented things she's asked and he's promised). It's one of those dumb little things that reflect on bigger problems to come. I knew living in the house with them would be hard, and it would/will seriously upset me, but I thought I could deal. Now, I'm not so sure. She asked, you see, if I wanted my room or if I would like to take the guest room, instead. She tried to phrase it like the latter would be in my better interest, but didn't succeed. Because if I choose my room, I will be kicked out and forced to sleep in the guest room whenever any of the asshole's friends and relatives show up for a visit. Why? Some ridiculous excuses about the bathroom. And (what I feel is) the real reason: Because the schmuck has taken over the basement. Because he doesn't want the disruption to "his" area. I never had any expectation that she would pick me over him, because that's not how she works. She has never in her entire life chosen to fight for her children in the face of someone else's comfort. I mean, I still for some unknown reason carry the hope that one day it will happen, which means it still hurts, but I don't go in thinking I'm going to get the long straw. But I also don't usually expect to get 100% shafted, either.
You know it's a really, really bad feeling, too, because that one thing destroyed everything. AND it's making me seriously contemplate staying, even as my allergies start to make me feel like total crap again. And when the habits Jeremy got rid of during break that make me cranky are starting to show up again. Now I feel like intuition is telling me to stay, when five days ago it was all but shoving me to CO. I no longer want to go. At all. I found myself pondering yesterday whether I could countenance throwing away the $210 in plane tickets and admission fees by staying.
I don't have second thoughts. Generally by the time I commit my whole self to something, I'm absolutely sure about it and have a meaty framework of a plan to use in going about it. It's never a niggling little doubt demon that makes me question. It's a behemoth that crashes through my framework and makes me rebuild from the ground up with new information. Usually I commit really fast to the second plan because once the scaffolding falls, I get a new, more appealing perspective. In this case, though, I honestly have no clue what to do. Wherever I go, I have to commit to two years (not the specifics, like what house I live in, but the overall plan). I don't want to do that, but my options demand it.
So here I am, stuck. Do I go, try to get my act together, but deal with the home-life from hell and a constant reminder that my mother is an idiot? Or do I stay, muddle through, and deal with constant anxiety, depression, and allergies?
Argh. I do so much better with short, challenging deadlines than giant, looming possibilities on the horizon. I'm so not patient when it comes to life, and I really need to work on it. I suppose I should just practice patience, and wait to see if Fate hands me more information closer to the fork in the road.
Sigh. I hate waiting...
It's happening again with moving back to Colorado. I was 100% gung-ho. I was pulling information together and doing things that needed doing even though I absolutely dreaded it. Some of the research worried me - reality jumping in to remind me that I won't get everything I want, no matter how hard I try, because it's based on desire not numbers - but I was still excited.
And then my mom woke me up to complain about her husband and his son, and it broke. She made it sound like even though she really wants me there, it'll put a cramp in Bill's life. Rather than trying to help her daughter and fight to help me improve my life (when I'm rarin' and ready to do it ASAP), she was wimping around trying to iron out his (even though in the same breath she complained that he doesn't do any of the life-oriented things she's asked and he's promised). It's one of those dumb little things that reflect on bigger problems to come. I knew living in the house with them would be hard, and it would/will seriously upset me, but I thought I could deal. Now, I'm not so sure. She asked, you see, if I wanted my room or if I would like to take the guest room, instead. She tried to phrase it like the latter would be in my better interest, but didn't succeed. Because if I choose my room, I will be kicked out and forced to sleep in the guest room whenever any of the asshole's friends and relatives show up for a visit. Why? Some ridiculous excuses about the bathroom. And (what I feel is) the real reason: Because the schmuck has taken over the basement. Because he doesn't want the disruption to "his" area. I never had any expectation that she would pick me over him, because that's not how she works. She has never in her entire life chosen to fight for her children in the face of someone else's comfort. I mean, I still for some unknown reason carry the hope that one day it will happen, which means it still hurts, but I don't go in thinking I'm going to get the long straw. But I also don't usually expect to get 100% shafted, either.
You know it's a really, really bad feeling, too, because that one thing destroyed everything. AND it's making me seriously contemplate staying, even as my allergies start to make me feel like total crap again. And when the habits Jeremy got rid of during break that make me cranky are starting to show up again. Now I feel like intuition is telling me to stay, when five days ago it was all but shoving me to CO. I no longer want to go. At all. I found myself pondering yesterday whether I could countenance throwing away the $210 in plane tickets and admission fees by staying.
I don't have second thoughts. Generally by the time I commit my whole self to something, I'm absolutely sure about it and have a meaty framework of a plan to use in going about it. It's never a niggling little doubt demon that makes me question. It's a behemoth that crashes through my framework and makes me rebuild from the ground up with new information. Usually I commit really fast to the second plan because once the scaffolding falls, I get a new, more appealing perspective. In this case, though, I honestly have no clue what to do. Wherever I go, I have to commit to two years (not the specifics, like what house I live in, but the overall plan). I don't want to do that, but my options demand it.
So here I am, stuck. Do I go, try to get my act together, but deal with the home-life from hell and a constant reminder that my mother is an idiot? Or do I stay, muddle through, and deal with constant anxiety, depression, and allergies?
Argh. I do so much better with short, challenging deadlines than giant, looming possibilities on the horizon. I'm so not patient when it comes to life, and I really need to work on it. I suppose I should just practice patience, and wait to see if Fate hands me more information closer to the fork in the road.
Sigh. I hate waiting...