Amanda Gayle (amandagayle) wrote,
Amanda Gayle
amandagayle

Movin to Poughkeepsie, away from the North Country...

(You sing that to the tune of PUSA's "Peaches")

It's about looking into the horizon and not having the view obstructed by mountains:
Which is a metaphore of my life. It's not unpleasant, it's just odd, unsettling. What do you mean, I don't have to climb to get there? It's not what I'm used to ~ none of this is. I find myself not having to fight to stay me, to become more. I'm free to grow as I will. I'm not fighting someone else's mold. With this new life I lucked into, I can be whoever, whatever I want to be.
And I've got to admit, not having to fight is almost as bad as the inertia and apathy that occurs when I've given in. I like a leetle bit of fight. Now someone's said "go ahead. I trust that whatever you grow into, I'll love just as much as I love what you are now, and I love you for what you are and I don't want to change anything about you, and whatever you wear is fine and whatever you do is fine and whatever opinions you harbor I'll respect."
I always gave that to whomever I loved.* Now, for the first time,** I'm getting it back.+ And I'm frozen. I don't know what to do with it.
So for the past year and a half, I've remained static.
I've got to force myself to grow. No, I want to be excited about growing, like Cory's excited about getting out of the Army, excited about moving, excited about starting a new education, and after that a new career. He could have fallen back, gone back home and into the family business, but he's not. He's taking chances on himself.
I've always been afraid of change, unless someone or something's holding me back just lightly enough that I want to fight it. How do I fix that? How do I grow without having anything to fight against, or to climb?

In other news, the movers came today. All our stuff is packed. I haven't seen the empty house yet, because I'm at work, but now I'm starting to feel faintly exited, rather than sensing adumbrations of failure (I can't help it. After being fairly successful ~ on the surface, to other people's eyes ~ for 22 years, and then getting my commupance by crashing and burning, over and over, miserably for the following 6, I expect everything to go wrong now, never mind that since I walked out on so and so two days before Thanksgiving, 2009, I keep getting better and better at life, once again [knock on wood HARD]. There's money in the bank. There's someone who's never given me a reason not to trust. There's a plan. There are two sets of lists ~ his and hers ~ to make sure this plan is followed through with properly (with compromises. We're learning to compromise. I flatter myself that we're naturals ~ only a couple bumps in a year and a half, and none of them ever left unresolved for too long [again, knock on wood, twice). This will be ok, right? Yes, I tell myself. This will be fine.

*Ok, that's a lie. I wanted my sister to stop stealing my stuff and selling it. I wanted Rick to stop stealing my money and gambling it and lying to me and cheating on me.
**(Ok, my dad always accepted I was who I was after only a small struggle, and then feels guilty he struggled at all. I don't give him enough credit. And there's my Rae.)
+Ok, those two sentences sounded good in theory, it's how I felt for the 30 seconds I was writing them, but they're totally not true. Except that I AM getting it back, that part's real.
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