Deconstructing The Thing

Robb and I went out last Friday and had a good time connecting...sometimes it's just so hard to settle in and really talk about things that are hard. We were sitting in a Chinese restaurant and I was crying and thinking how absurd it was that I was sitting in a Chinese restaurant and crying.

We were talking about my discontent...my chronic ambition...my whatever it is that makes me feel that we aren't giving our kids what I want to give them. I think that Robb was a little surprised by the fact that I feel this way and he tried to draw me out on what it is that I feel we are missing. I came up with this...

Roots.


"You mean, like we stay in one place for the rest of our lives?" He asked.

I don't know exactly.

Except that anytime the mention of Ithaca or our house there comes up, I cry. Like the loss of a dearest loved one. Like a breakup from someone you just loved so much, but it couldn't work out. I told Robb that it was the first place we'd lived that I was happy. We said that it was going to be our "forever home" and that we were going to stay there forever. I had worked through the urge to leave after two years; I had put my absolute heart and soul into fixing up the house. I planted perenials, planning every year for new flowers and trees and such. I dreamed great dreams. I loved that home with complete abandon. I never planned to leave it. And more than just the house, I felt I belonged in the community. I alternated between being amusedly annoyed by the provincial mindset of the people, and being relieved by the simplicity of it all. I genuinely loved the town like you love a family with all it's quirks. And then we moved...again.

But there was more to it than all that...All this week I have asked myself what it was about living there that I have not been able to get over. I mean, sure it's always hard to move, but I haven't been able to move ON and that is a problem. I'm pretty sure other people don't mourn the loss of their town. What I feel can't be quite right.

My thoughts have been turbulent this week. I am in a room interacting with family and friends, but underneath, I am thinking....thinking...thinking....trying to work out this puzzle in my head....

I've cleaned out closets, organized the basket of school papers, sorted through Charleigh's clothes, cleaned my closet, organized the garage...but I still feel this profound disorder in my soul. I rearranged the knick-knacks in the living room, not because I had time, but because I was compelled to make it better....

I am working at deconstructing the thing. I'm getting close, and as usual, the root of the matter is some place I have been ignoring for a long time. I can see the shape of it coming into focus and honestly, I'd like to turn around and run in the opposite direction for as long and as hard as I possible can.

I'm sorry to be so cryptic, but I'm exhausted and these thoughts need more energy than I have to hatch properly.

The wind is howling and it is pouring a miserably chilly rain...not so cold as to actually decisively freeze, just cold enough to be unfocussed and grouchy. It so perfectly matches my mood, I'm actually grateful for it.