Lately I have been feeling ALL OF THE THINGS. Sad, happy, empty, lonely, okay, fine, cheerful, hungry, stagnant, scared, wistful, bitter, sleepy, annoyed. All of the things. All of the emotions, right there, stuck in the middle of my chest clamoring for some sort of acknowledgement that sometimes, when you think about taking the snow globe of your life and shaking the shit of it, things can get sort of weird.
And that – the snow globe shaking – is exactly what we’ve done. Andrew and I woke up on different days this spring and realized that our aspirations are worth fighting for, that the things we’ve always wanted to do should be sought after and not left to wilt on the back burner. Time is running out and if we don’t decide to act on our dreams right this instant, we might not ever get to.
So then things started happening. Plans were hatched, dreams acted upon, meetings held and now suddenly we’re careening down this path that will hopefully have us living in different states by the end of this year.
But the thing is, nothing is final yet. There’s no word yet on which dreams are happening – mine or his or both. He won’t know until at least May. I won’t know until at least January and so now I’m stuck with all this nervous, anxious energy, stressed about what’s to come, nervous at the prospect of living in this massive house all by myself, scared at what it all means emotionally and financially, and what our marriage will look like on the other side of all these dream chasing.
And here’s the kicker: I don’t know what’s scarier – that I’ll get what I want, or that I won’t. I don’t know what I fear the most, the realization that I am capable of doing this really big thing (that I’m obviously still too terrified to talk about in a public space), or that all my insecurities will be recognized and I’ll be flatly denied, mocked for even attempting such a thing.
It’s a circle. It’s an awful circle of self-doubt and a bit of self-loathing and a little bit of hope and then a voice inside my head that beats the shit out of the hope with a crowbar for even having the audacity to think that me – little me – could possibly achieve such a ridiculous thing. And really, the self-doubt and that stupid awful voice that tells me I am incapable of such things only pisses me off more because who the fuck are you, voice, to tell me what I can and cannot do? and since when did I let myself get derailed by naysayers parading around in my own head space? And, maybe most importantly, what in the hell happened to my inner honey badger? When did I start giving a shit?
I’ve tried writing it down over and over and over again, the way I’ve been feeling, and nothing has come out right. I’ve started blog posts with simple statements like “I’m sad” and then spent an hour staring at a blinking cursor trying to figure out what I mean by that, if that’s correct, accurate. And it’s not. Not really. I’m sad, sure, sad that I might have to spend time away from my number one partner in crime, sad that I might have to move, that things might be very, very different for a while, sad like I haven’t been in a long, long time, but I’m more than that too. I’m weighted by the realization that the path I’ve got to travel down in order to reach my pot of gold is criss-crossed with mountain ranges and wild cougars and maybe even an ocean of piranhas.
But you know what’s worse that fighting off piranhas? Not trying. Spending the rest of my life wondering if I could have, should have. Spending years on a rocking chair pissed off at myself for not being my number one fan, for letting the self-doubt get the best of me.
And I know all these things. I know I’ll regret it if I don’t at least try. I know that I can survive in this house by myself for a year or so. I know that I can handle it. It’s just that, at the same time as knowing it all, I don’t. There’s that sliver that says I can’t. That I’ll drown. That I won’t make it, that the piranhas will eat me alive, that I won’t be okay, and all I want is to be able to turn down that awful noise, that awful garble about inability and unworthiness, and just get on with dream catching already.