(no subject)
the longer it gets, the harder it is to write.
about a week ago, i let an old friend see my blog. it reminded me to revisit the things i'd written, so i did. i spent several hours rereading, "i feel stuck. i feel stuck. i feel stuck." i'd forgotten that, years ago, i'd prepared to research teaching abroad. but then my dad left one january evening, one that repeats over and over again in my decision-making, and everything went on hold.
recently i've discovered the notion of losing time--not wasting it, but perhaps losing hours and days and months, years you will never reclaim. i'll never be as young as i am today, and i'll never go back to my 20s and try it again. i'm making peace with the time i've lost. and today, on the brink of a new school year, i'm nearly done tweaking my resume for a teach-abroad program. i'm also considering a teaching ambassadorship--but i don't know that the department of education is interested in a highly opinionated girl who disagrees with most policy.
it's bittersweet. i've finally found a community of like-minded women interested in actively pursuing friendships. i'm finally getting comfortable in my skin around here. i've finally visited my grandparents again and affirmed that our visits should be, at the very least, annual. all of these things coming together--so of course, it's time to pick up again.
austin has taught me that relationships with anyone aren't easy. friends don't just happen. nor, for that matter, does family. i'd taken it for granted in my houston years that i had a whole crowd of people, and then i moved in the middle of life shifting--marriages, divorces, children, houses, academia. like that, the crowd dispersed, and then six years passed. so, there's that.
i've learned just enough in my life to have teeny glimpses of wisdom, and there's this: the scarier something feels, the better it is. because it's all a battle against fear, right? we cannot love well, live well until we hold our experiences against fear, so i guess i'm trying to do that. really, it's more frightening to grow comfortable and wonder if this is all there is--the job, the apartment, reruns of 30 rock while falling asleep.
but it's not enough to stay because i have to give my plants away, or because i have to put my expensive elliptical in storage. when it comes to actually living a life, money shouldn't be an object. it's just a life, this little one.
i learned in houston that it isn't enough to martyr yourself for your students. they see through bullshit well, and they won't respect you any more or less because of your sacrifice. they are, after all, children. they have their own life choices to make, some of them bigger than your own.
so. i'm leaving. but not right now. right now i'm just sitting on my porch, watching a thunderstorm, and being still.