Posts Tagged ‘ family ’

“I’m not really sure I fully grasp all that this move means or the permanence of it, just yet.”

It seems implausible that in just a few months I will no longer be in the first place that has ever felt like “home” as I’ve been an adult, that I’ll be losing all sense of familiarity in my surroundings, that I’ll be a thousand miles away from my dear friends, those that often drop by at a moment’s notice.  I’m not really sure I fully grasp all that this move means or the permanence of it, just yet. I’m still very much in the robotic planning stages of just “getting things done.”  In those moments I have allowed myself to ponder, I am moved to tears and my chest pulls at my soul, like a tearing of flesh by sharp talons.

This isn’t easy for me, but the major choices in my life so far never have been.  Leaving my ex-husband was a gut-wrentching choice that often felt as though I was finally giving up on him as a person when I promised I never would.  Walking away from both of my biological parents’ abusive ways took me years, and upon mustering the courage, I never felt freer.  Leaving nursing school when I had put forth years of time, effort, and money.  All of these choices were huge, vast, and absolutely painful.  They were “those” choices, those instinct-fueled “I have to do this” choices that had me twisted.  This choice is another path I have to walk.  Am I ready? No. But if not now, when?

The hardest part is leaving my girls — those three girls who are like sisters to me, those I can call at midnight just because I feel like it or text a complete pissed off rant about some asshole who just violated my perceived moral code.  The girls I can sit in the same room with and say absolutely nothing, yet everything, without any exchange of spoken word.  The girls who have suffered with me in my journey, wiped my tears, and held me up.  How do I walk away from that?  Two of them I know I will have absolutely no issue maintaining contact with.  They are steadfast in frequent communication, whether it be through phone calls, texting, or social networking sites.  We’ll visit.  We’ll make it work because we love each other THAT much, but I HATE knowing I cannot just drive over to their houses and wrap my arms around them…that our movie nights with oversized blankets and cuddles will be infrequent and miles upon miles away…that the best part of me is being left behind in them.

I feel like my heart is failing me at this moment.  Tears are streaming my face and my soul is beyond tormented.  My husband just rushed in, concerned, and wrapped his arms around me. I couldn’t do this without him.  He is my rock right now because in these moments, I am the weakest I’ve been in a long time.  I am so vulnerable, so raw…so deeply pained. I know opportunity awaits me…I know my other “sister” awaits me…my other “family” awaits me…they need me…I must go.  Doing what is right doesn’t always feel good though.

My girls will tell me how much this hurts them, how it brings tears to their eyes, how they wish I didn’t have to go.  I want to be strong for them, and in the quiet recesses of my bedroom, I allow myself to fall apart…to break open…to crack into a billion pieces of anguish. When I left Colorado, I never cried or hurt like this because when I left, I wasn’t sure if I would return or not. But this time?  I know I’m not coming back.  I know my girls and I will meet up and reconnect and that we’ll always pick up right where we left off, as if no time had passed, but it’s just not the same.  They’re a part of me and I’m not sure how to hold myself up without them.  I don’t know how to function without them HERE, with me.

I feel like I’m leaving home for the first time.  Nothing has ever really ached like this before and I don’t know what to do with these emotions swelling within me like wine and bread.  I’m drunk on pain.  In most cases, I would avoid my loved ones completely, to isolate and prevent hurt. At least, the old me would have done that, years ago.  Now?  I want to share every moment with them…breathe them in…remember every single thing.  I don’t know how to say goodbye.  There are no rules for this and I am clueless.  I can’t plan this, logically analyze this, or make sense of it.

I’m not sure I want to.

“Here’s goes nothing. And everything.”

It’s been a long time, I know.  It’s amazing how much has happened this month and how such drastic changes can swirl you into plans of action, leaving other things, like blogging, to sit upon the shelf.  In September, my husband and I went to Pennsylvania to visit a friend and her partner.  While there, I kept getting the sense that my friend was pregnant, and she had the same sense, too, but the test came out negative.  Two weeks after we returned home, we found out that our suspicions were, in fact, correct.  In that moment I knew my life was about to change…I sensed it…but I had no clue HOW it would change.  My husband wanted to move there from the moment he saw Pennsylvania.  My friend and I don’t like being separated by distance, so naturally, we’d like to be near one another.  But, of course, I had grad school to attend to and I wasn’t entirely keen on living close to only a Wal-Mart when I am used to living within minutes of everything I like to have access to (Whole Foods, Target, TJ Maxx, Costco, Ross).  Something in me stirred though, and I wasn’t listening.

For months I ignored that feeling.  I have grad school coming up…a DOCTORAL PROGRAM.  Who passes that up?  Who does that?  It’s in a place that I don’t want to live — extremely high cost of living, the highest unemployment rate in the United States, high crime rates, and tropical, humid weather.  None of it appealed to me, but it was my dream and it was only five years.  Only five years?  Are you listening to yourself?!  FIVE YEARS.  That is a hell of a long time to be in a place you loathe, where you would likely struggle financially, and for the sake of…what?  Again, I ignored the feelings, the thoughts.  I ignored my husband’s pleas to leave Florida, well, at least as far as he knew.  Inside, I prayed for guidance and I told God/The Universe/Destiny/Fate (whatever you want to call it), “If I am not meant to do this, you’re going to have to give me a huge, unmistakable sign.  I need 100% reassurance that leaving this behind is what I am supposed to do here.”

And I got the sign.  Several of them, actually.  My friend had a really horrible time with her first child — the post-partum depression was nearly crippling.  Her circumstances were vastly different than they are now, but the risk for post-partum is huge and with her psych history and current lack of emotional support, she told me that she needed me to be there, if only for the birth and a couple of weeks after.  What she wouldn’t allow herself to say, for the sake of supporting my dreams, was that I needed to be there to help her weather the storm, regardless of how long it took.  Sign number one.  Sign number two was an eery sense followed by dreams of the act that I sensed.  I saw my friend, holding her new baby, both of them deceased.  Literal, figurative, whatever.  That was all I needed.  I kept having the same dream, and all psychological theories aside, I know when my gut is telling me something and I know what happens when I don’t listen to my gut.  There were other signs, too, but those two were the ones that resonated within me daily.

Earlier this month, while my husband and I were driving to Costco, I was silent.  We pulled into a parking spot, I turned off the car, and I just sat there.  “We have to move to Pennsylvania.  I’m not going to Miami for school.”  He smirked and replied, “I knew you’d come around.”  We talked for over an hour in that parking lot, making plans for our unplanned, unrehearsed, off-the-beaten-path future.  Ironically, when I finally conceded to that overwhelming feeling within me and I made the choice, I felt an overwhelming peace and comfort.  It felt right.  I called my friend and told her and plans began to unfold seamlessly.

We’re moving in with my friend and her boyfriend (who has the emotional IQ of a tack and is so devoid of relating to a woman on any level that I often want to lobotomize him, hoping that maybe less of a brain would at least make him teachable).  We’re selling everything we own and shipping our “close to the heart” items and much needed things via UPS.  We’re taking all six of our cats* and our dog and driving up to Pennsylvania just a few days after I graduate.  I’ve applied to Master’s programs in that area for the Fall semester and I’ve been researching jobs.  So far, things seem to be falling into place.

What others might see as insane, I am completely at peace with.  I know this is what I’m meant to do.  I’m not sure what the future holds, but if I’ve learned nothing else in my life, I’ve learned to trust my instincts.  Since I do not have any family that I claim (more on that, later), this friend and a few chosen others, ARE my family.  I’ve spent my entire life wanting to belong in a family, and I actually have that offered to me, now.  Family or a career?  In retrospect, the choice is clear, but at the time, I simply couldn’t see it.  Here’s goes nothing.  And everything.

Wish me luck.  🙂 Continue reading

“Awkward silences are only awkward if you allow them to be…”

My sister-in-law is in the awkward stage of the teen years.  She’s the black sheep of her family — they are sci fi geeks, she likes theater.  They like to play video games.  She likes to sing and dance.  They routinely make references to Star Trek, Dr. Who, and Stargate in their every day conversation.  She quotes song lyrics.  They wear jeans and t-shirts.  She’s a fashionista.  Given that she’s home schooled, she’s odd girl out most of the time.  So, my husband and I bring her to our house so she can text her friends, sit on facebook, take naps, eat until she’s had her fill (she often doesn’t get enough food at home given the family often doesn’t have the means to provide enough for everyone), and generally escape from the hell that is her reality.

I’m an only child.  I don’t understand sibling dynamics on an intimate level, but I can see when something is amiss.  My SIL stepped foot into our home and immediately, my husband’s demeanor changed.  He was acting like the rest of his family toward her — distant, disinterested.  I pulled him aside and we talked. “I don’t know her.  I don’t know who she is, what she’s interested in, and she’s so walled off.”  So, the three of us sat and laid it on the table.  I said, “I don’t care how you functioned at your house growing up.  That is not okay here.  Awkward silences are only awkward if you allow them to be and I would give anything to have a sibling to bond with because who else understands what you went through as kids.”  They just needed permission to be clueless and awkward.  I told my SIL that I don’t fully understand the whole sibling thing…so if she needs and or wants something, she has to let it be known. “It’s okay to tell us what you need.  We won’t ignore you…we’ll meet you half-way.”

When my husband said to his sister, “So…how have you been for the last five years?”, it dawned on me that even the closest family members are strangers…even when they see one another routinely and regularly.  I thought being siblings was a magical bond that somehow brought forth the whole “Us Against the World” type of union.  I was mistaken.  I was not mistaken however, in the beauty of my husband.  Normally a very private person, he put himself out there for his sister, knowing if he didn’t share of himself, she wouldn’t open up to him.  I watched a brother reach out to his little sister and try to understand her…find out about her life…and even take an interest in her interests by learning how to swing dance in the living room.  I watched a little sister come to life because she was the center of attention and we truly cared about her feelings, her thoughts, and we gave her space to be herself.  And I watched the story unfold before me.  I was watching two people who truly need each other re-open doors.  I saw wounds heal.  I saw trust renewed. Two people went from simply being in the same room to filleting their feelings and being raw and transparent for the sake of holding on to whatever sibling bond existed below the surface.

When I dropped my SIL back at home, she said, “Thanks for letting me come over and just letting me rest.  I really needed that. Thanks for just…being there.”  That’s when it hit me — for the first time in my life, I have a little sister.  All of that crap I went through as a teenager has made me highly sensitive to where she is. She relies on me to let her be open, flawed, imperfect, but still loved and accepted. She allows me to be the person she exposes her darkest secrets to, knowing I won’t be shocked, appalled, or judgmental. She knows I’ve seen a lot in my life…I am extremely open with her.  I keep no secrets because I never want her to feel like she can’t come to me.  I know now, for sure, that she knows that when she feels no one else in the family “gets” her, loves her, understands her…she knows that I do.  As much as she needs me to be her sounding board, I need her, too.