growth means change
Three posts in one day. Now you know I'm really procrastinating.
Anyway, part of this occurred to me during therapy last week, except the last part. When I was growing up, we moved around a lot. Several years in Pennsylvania in my grade school years. Three or so years in New Jersey during junior high, three years in New York, and then, before my junior high, two years in Southern California.
If you include Monterey, I've lived in Northern California for the seventeen years since then. Seventeen years. To be sure, that includes four years in Berkeley and three years in Monterey... but then ten years in Sunnyvale. To be sure, part of that is that I own a condo here, so moving isn't as easy as it could be. And Erika and I did consider moving after she graduated, and then when I looked at grad schools, I considered those out of the area. But ultimately, we stayed. I stayed.
And although my resume looks somewhat typical for a software engineer -- the usual three years at most of the jobs, but a rather unusual seven years at my last one -- I mentioned during therapy that I felt like I stayed too long at every one. It always took an external kick for me to start looking for a new job, particularly my first and last ones, where I felt appreciated (I felt underappreciated and underpaid at my second one, so I think I left at about the right time there).
So I think it's fairly obvious that this is the very picture of somebody who lacked stability in childhood and craved it tremendously in adulthood. This is not a revelation to me. However, what I didn't realize was that this also applies to my holding on to Erika. Divorcing Erika might be a natural progression for me. She was ready to walk a while ago, but I refused to let her go. Claimed that what we had was worth salvaging, worth fighting for. Certainly, any relationship is worth work and effort. But we'd done all that. We weren't failing to communicate. We were at one point, but once everything came out, the truth was glaringly obvious. And I didn't want to believe it. I wasn't ready to let go. I wanted things to remain the same. Or at least, to change only superficially.
But change is inevitable. My career wasn't right for me. It was good while it lasted, but it was time to go find my true calling. Erika wasn't right for me. I owe her a debt that can never be repaid in that she's helped me grow to the point where I can see all this clearly and do what needs to be done and move on. But that means moving on without her.
And although I didn't want to admit this before, I am ready now.
Anyway, part of this occurred to me during therapy last week, except the last part. When I was growing up, we moved around a lot. Several years in Pennsylvania in my grade school years. Three or so years in New Jersey during junior high, three years in New York, and then, before my junior high, two years in Southern California.
If you include Monterey, I've lived in Northern California for the seventeen years since then. Seventeen years. To be sure, that includes four years in Berkeley and three years in Monterey... but then ten years in Sunnyvale. To be sure, part of that is that I own a condo here, so moving isn't as easy as it could be. And Erika and I did consider moving after she graduated, and then when I looked at grad schools, I considered those out of the area. But ultimately, we stayed. I stayed.
And although my resume looks somewhat typical for a software engineer -- the usual three years at most of the jobs, but a rather unusual seven years at my last one -- I mentioned during therapy that I felt like I stayed too long at every one. It always took an external kick for me to start looking for a new job, particularly my first and last ones, where I felt appreciated (I felt underappreciated and underpaid at my second one, so I think I left at about the right time there).
So I think it's fairly obvious that this is the very picture of somebody who lacked stability in childhood and craved it tremendously in adulthood. This is not a revelation to me. However, what I didn't realize was that this also applies to my holding on to Erika. Divorcing Erika might be a natural progression for me. She was ready to walk a while ago, but I refused to let her go. Claimed that what we had was worth salvaging, worth fighting for. Certainly, any relationship is worth work and effort. But we'd done all that. We weren't failing to communicate. We were at one point, but once everything came out, the truth was glaringly obvious. And I didn't want to believe it. I wasn't ready to let go. I wanted things to remain the same. Or at least, to change only superficially.
But change is inevitable. My career wasn't right for me. It was good while it lasted, but it was time to go find my true calling. Erika wasn't right for me. I owe her a debt that can never be repaid in that she's helped me grow to the point where I can see all this clearly and do what needs to be done and move on. But that means moving on without her.
And although I didn't want to admit this before, I am ready now.