beenie

Will I be healed or destroyed?

Through a series of events and discussions, Bryan and I have decided to pack up and move to Madison. I've wanted to live there for 5+ years, he's wanted to live there for 20. We're not happy where we are, we are stagnating.

D recently blogged about the anticipation of a much-desired move. I understand. Not about the kids, since I don't have any, but about feeling like the walls are closing in on you. One of the reasons I'm so excited about the move to Madison is that I feel like this town is bringing me down. Unfortunately, even though I'm close to my friends at work - this is the closest-knit bunch of coworkers I've ever had - I can't bring myself to actually tell them for fear I'd offend them. A lot of them grew up around here, and I see them more than I see any of my non-work friends, so they're naturally some of the people I share my joys and sorrows with. But every time I talk about how excited I am I feel like I'm just some uppity New Yorker who can't stand small-town Midwest living. And I love it in Wisconsin, I really do, but this town just doesn't do anything for me.

I love these people dearly - I thought I was close to some of the people I used to work with, but it's never been like this. And I feel like I'm putting them down every time I talk about my excitement. So, internet, I guess I'll share it with you.

I'm so excited to be moving to a town with CULTURE. A town where we can go to a great Farmers' Market, where we can join a CSA, where we can have fresh, local milk, eggs, cheese and bacon delivered to our door on a weekly basis. A town where I don't feel so overwhelmed by the possibility of... dare I say it... going back to school (even if it's online rather than actual classes). A town where every time I sit down at my computer I'm not saddened by memory of this being the room where I found out my Grandmother died. The room where I bawled my eyes out while on hold waiting for a ticket agent to book my flight home for the funeral. A town where Bryan and I were so miserable when we first moved here that we were initially unsure as to whether we'd make it as a couple. A town where one of my best friends used to live, but moved away after getting a fabulous new job.

I love our apartment, but it has too many bad memories and too few good ones. This apartment has never actually felt like home. It's a great apartment, but I just don't think it's "ours." While it's more than adequate in size, it Just. Doesn't. Fit.

If D doesn't mind (and D, if you do, I'll take it down), I'll quote her here:

I cannot live in this house. I cannot breathe in this house. I cannot drive these roads and shop in these stores for the rest of my life. Is it running? Is it folly to think that these boxes can possibly represent the beginning of a new beginning? Who? What? Where? When? Why? We will all be the same people, even when we meet the boxes on the other side. Am I setting myself up for disappointment and failure yet again? Can moving heal as well as destroy?

I'm looking at this move as a fresh beginning. I have so many hopes for this move - a fresh start not the least of them. And I hope I'm healed rather than destroyed in the process.

Posted by beenie at March 13, 2007 10:15 PM