Courage of Convictions
I often think our lives are a little too manic. Too much time in the car, not enough time in the woods. Too much time at school, not enough time just playing. Too much time with the rushing hither and yon and not enough time just being content with oneself and the world.
With Ed’s job offer comes a chance to go somewhere slower. Somewhere quieter. There would be less driving. Less running. There would be less to do. There would be a larger kitchen and more green space. As we face this choice, I think — this is what I wanted, right? This is what I said I wanted.
But at the crunch, I’m not sure it is.
Does this mean I lack the courage to follow through on what I believe? Possibly. I am not so much of the grand courage and more of the dogged persistence brand of person. I have a vision in my head that’s a little bit like SouleMama (color, craft and muddy children) and is probably a whole lot of wild inventing by the displaced New Yorker who used to imagine she’d have been Laura Ingalls’ best friend, really. Yeah, well. I’m good with subways, squeezing into tiny parking spaces, navigating museums and finding good coffee. Horses, not so much. The only time I ever rode a horse the instructor scolded me for pulling the reins too tight. Dude, if the reins were any looser, I might as well be riding bareback in a tutu. And don’t talk to me about scrapbooking. I respect your craft, if that’s your thing, but me? I’m going to keep all my photos and paper crap in big piles for my grandkids to sort through and ask each other in wonder and disgust: “Now who the hell is this and why is she falling off that horse while wearing a tutu?”
And can I bear to leave yet another place that has come to be home? In me still are the quiet mournings of other homes I have loved and left. Can I add another one to the list? Can I bear to leave yet another group of friends? How many pieces of myself can I scatter across this world before I dissolve? I have moved often enough to know that friends remain – not all, certainly, but some. And the friendships change but they still grow. They still flower. And so will I — I do know this. But any uprooting is hard. And it takes time to grow deep and down again.
So, I sit here and wonder — can I go somewhere new again? Can I really have a quieter life? Can I make it the beautiful thing I imagine? Or am I going to hop into a stolen convertible and drive hell-bent-for-urban-leather back to civilisation? Am I going to rack up enormous phone bills and avoid scrapbooking parties and drink too much gin in my large kitchen? Will my children be happy and muddy and content, or will they whine about how we never get to go running through the giant heart anymore.
I have no answers. Even after seven deep breaths. I am waiting for my courage to rise.
Funny, when I fantasize about moving somewhere out of the city I always imagine living an idyllic soulemama-esque life too.
I know that blogging is it’s own crazy beast of relative importance, or antiimportance, but one potential comfort is that nothing will change about your internet friendships. You could live on the moon for all we’d know and we’d still come here, delight in your perceptions about yourself, motherhood, and your world.
But yes. Uprooting. Hard.
Maybe like love, pieces of yourself have an amazing capacity to endlessly expand and grow.
Maybe you will drink too much gin in your large kitchen- at first.
Maybe Daniel and Helena will whine- at first.
But I think you can make anything work. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know: You are just that kind of person.
Scrapbooking is indeed a precondition to moving to hte suburbs. Please visit the nearest scrapbooking store and at the minimum, purchase an album, some adhesive, and a few sheets of alphabet stickers.
I think it’s normal to have second thoughts about any major change. And gods know I’m no innocent to the whole I-thought-this-was-what-I-wanted,oops thing. So I have absolutely no useful advice. But in your situation I would feel the same way. Except for the scrapbooking, because (*ahem*) I do that.
No scrapbooking for me and I’ve been in this rural setting for 5 years already… I sew and garden and have become quite comfortable.
The biggest difference between what was and what is? The only thing delivered is by Fed Ex or UPS, you can forget meeting friends for lunch out, and you may indeed drink too much gin in your kitchen because “Happy Hour” at the local watering hole is just too far to drive.
There’s something to be said for the quiet, and being able to see the stars at night.
Even if you move to another city, your children will miss the giant heart….
Hi,
I linked to your blog from somewhere in cyberspace and see some similarities with our paths..My partner finished his Phd in Feburary this year and in the March was offered a position in the UK. It was out of the blue and I was not prepared for the change but we have moved up here from Australia 3mths ago.
It has been tough and I have been pretty homesick but in time I hope it will feel like a good decision. Career wise it should be a good move academically. But also we wanted to see some of Europe. Both kids are still primary school age and have so far adjusted well to school.
I have also done the move from a big city in Australia to a provincial town an hour or more out, in fact I had only moved to this town 2 years before this Uk job came up.
Having experienced both and also considering myself an urban girl..I had a wonderful time in the smaller city. It took a good six months but the people were wonderful and made what I consider some good friends there which has made it all the more hard to move again. I loved the fact that I could walk to school the park the shops the doctors it was a million times better than battling the traffic every morning to go to sch in town.
I missed good coffee, some shopping, friends,-yes mostly friends but I was close enough that we could still catch up ocassionally.
Is it possible to rent your house and rent were you are moving to so that you can come back if it is all too hard?!
Hey-if you need any advice just write- although being in the UK I’m probably not much use for US info but just for the bigger ‘change’ stuff I feel like I have some ‘experience’
Regards
Sian
Moving is hard, and so is leaving your friends behind. What surprised me the most about moving to a college town in rural PA was the wealth of educated, dedicated women. In time, when I started being nice and quit being a snob, I made some really wonderful, down-to-earth friends, whom I miss terribly. We and our children had a real quality of life in Rural America that; we lack it here in uber-wealthy, unreal, SW Florida.
Think of it not as scattering pieces of yourself across the world. Think of it as an opportunity to gather yourself together, to gather your children and husband, to gather your friends. You’d be surprised how many people want to come to the country and “set a while”.
You won’t rack up big phone bills b/c you’ll have a one-price LD/internet/cable service. Yes, it exists in the boonies. You will become a good customer of all your favorite online shopping services b/c your choices may be limited. You will learn the art of making a day trip to the nearest Costco or Sam’s Club. You will discover the great treasure of farmer’s markets that abound in nearly every small town in rural PA.
As Martha says, it’s a good thing. And another thing? You should read Maya Angelou’s “I Shall Rise.”
oops didnt mean to be anonymous..
beautiful mother, this is the thing about courage. It takes strength, It takes courage.
No matter where you go, you will still be you. And your kids will still be your kids- whether they are exploring a city park or getting muddy in the backyard- it will still be both annoying and wonderful at the same time.
No matter what you decide, I know you will make the right decision- you can’t fail either way. And if it helps, everytime I try something new I tell myself I can always come home again if I need to.
I gave you the same peptalk, which I certainly stand by: you will be happy wherever you are. I’ll always be your friend no matter where you are, but damnit, I really like the fact that I see you a lot.
To me, you’re so much more than these words and the little snaphot of stuntmother fame. You’re funnier and sassier. You make a great apple cake and fabulous birthday lasagnas. You are the knitting wonder of the world. You are a high-class smart-ass. You are my sister from the outer boros.
I’ve been so lucky to be your friend, lunch mate and regular playdate. I have been so lucky that you are a really regular part of my life.
If you and when go, you aren’t leaving a piece of yourself, you’re taking a
chunk of us with you.
xox
The only time I ever rode a horse the instructor scolded me for pulling the reins too tight.
Oy. You must’ve been riding western. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been sneered at by a western rider.
I’ve been here in this itty, bitty town for nineteen years (this week, actually)but before that I moved all over the place while growing up. I have a moving phobia now–complete with bad dreams of finding out I’ve moved without my own prior knowledge or permission. I often think about the “better” things that might be out there, but I’m too chicken to go for them.
I wish you some luck with this decision, but I’m not sure you’re going to need it because I’m completely sure that you’re capable of making the life you want wherever you are.
Leaving and loss and moving.. you capture it all so beautifully. I’m an “always mover” hoping to finally find the satisfaction in my current situation (bloom where I’m planted).
Your mixed feelings don’t mean you don’t have the courage of your convictions… it simply means you’re a deep thinking and deep feeling person who is wise.
-Rachael
Go for it, leap into the unknown, you dont have to scrap book, take chances, even if they feel a bit scary/sad, there are friends out there to meet, homes that need you to live in them, even possibly schools (well maybe one somewhere) with a teacher who will see your kids as you do and cherish their creative souls. You could even end up as my next door neighbour, I would like that!
There is something to be said for both “running through the giant heart” and running through fields and woods. No matter where you’ve been, you leave a bit of yourself, but that’s ok – it helps you find your way back there if necessary. Hope whatever decision you make brings you the peace you’re looking for.
I want to fight. I want to fight against an economy that makes people *have* to move. It’s one thing if you want to move. It’s one thing if you want to move back home to be closer to family and friends. It’s a whole other ball of wax if you have to move to earn a living.
Stop the peptalks, Stuntmother can tell herself all of that. People, feel what this really is for the Stuntmother and children.
You’re not a little geranium being repotted here. A life is not a pie you can stick in a Longaberger pie carrier for the drive to Susie’s house (no offense to anyone named Susan). How often do people really run in the woods, anyway?
I am feeling your pain, my sister, and I am here for you. My family loves your family and we are going to love you no matter where you live. But daggonnit (sp?) you can be assured that Mr. Davey will try to file an injunction to keep his Francises near.
Now Mr. Davey does like Chestnut Hill very much — we all do.
We are sending you love and warmth.
FromdaBronx- I will always give Stuntmother pep-talks, although I know she can do this herself. The thing is, no matter how many times you give yourself a pep talk, there’s nothing like having one coming from a friend who believes in you, and is speaking with love, from the heart.
And I know she ain’t a little geranium being repotted. This is big.