On the surface, today was fine. I got up with the alarm, got dressed before I ate breakfast (does NOT happen often), took out the trash and recycling and herded two children to school. In the school line to drop off my daughter, I was asked by another mother "how did you have time to paint her nails this morning?" to which my immediate thought is, "I must not be doing it right if I have enough time to do this." The next two hours were spent grading, then dropping off paperwork to the municipal building and making lunch for two hungry hippos that find their way into my kitchen at least fifty times a day. While spending time at our table, I watched in fascination as my son completed a crossword puzzle and my daughter drew pictures that two weeks ago she could not do. They made cards for cousins, friends, and grandparents. We talked about the uncertainty of life, Boom Beach, and Encyclopedia Brown. Eden made "medicine" in the sink for her dolls and declared herself a scientist. My kids giggled and played amazingly well with each other for an unrealisticly long time. I did not interrupt nor did I see any need to check on them and disrupt my bliss. We chopped vegetables for dinner and had an appointment with a contractor and ate dinner.
But there is an undercurrent that flows with the strength of a riptide. One time when I was a teenager I got caught by a strong undercurrent at my favorite beach. My feet flipped over my head and I could not find the ocean floor for almost a minute. Panic set in as my attempts to right myself failed. Once I got my feet under me and my mouth above water, gasping for breath, I hoofed it to shore immediately. Being that out of control was terrifying. Today I got close to there.
Today was hard. Today was fine. The undercurrent tells me that what I do on a daily basis is not enough. It screams that I am not living up to the training and degree I earned. The undercurrent says that if I do not keep moving professionally, I will never make traction. These thoughts easily give way to my desire to be around people who are my shame resilient folk. My 'people', as my good friend calls us. These are simply the tip of the iceberg thoughts that lead to other thoughts and feelings of the last year that if given voice, might lead me to that same panic place of being out of control in the ocean.
I miss familiarity. I crave being with people who know me well. I miss hanging out with people easily, as in we can go to a movie or lunch or a hot drink or a walk without having to schedule three weeks in advance. I miss trusting that people will say yes to being with me. I miss Southern accents. I miss a church that is liturgically home, spiritually home, familially home. I miss that small section of our huge church that holds the bodies of those in "our church." I miss hugs and conversations that flow rather than are awkward, wondering what the next turn will be or if there will be a connection that leads to future easier conversations. I wonder if life here will ever feel like my feet are planted.
One year ago my life turned upside down. I moved away from many people that I love, from a town that nestled its way into the furthest corners of my heart, from people who inspired me to live a life beyond myself. On some days, this place that I have come to feels as foreign as a different country with new rules and groups and ideas and expectations. Days like today, I feel it. On the surface, my life is good. I have a great family, kids who are growing exponentially, and we are developing new friendships. But there is nothing like being known, being with people who know your stories, whose love you trust and it inspires you to lean more into who you are no matter what because it is enough. The process of establishing yourself all over again in so many domains is incredibly hard and long, and as I get older it is exponentially more draining.
Today was fine. Today was hard. And this is pretty much my life every day right now.
Wish I had had more time to get to know you Jen....
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