Saturday
Nov212009
Pretty Sure This Means My Period Is About To Start
Saturday, November 21, 2009 at 11:45AM | Mr Lady
I haven't talked too much about the actual move; like, the process behind it. I haven't because, honestly, I was busy pretending it wasn't happening. I didn't want to leave Canada, I wasn't planning on leaving Canada. I was happy in Canada. I was getting things in order to apply for citizenship in Canada. And now, I'm as far from Canada as I think I could be, geographically.
We say, or at least think, that the internet bridges all spans of time and distance, but it isn't really true. Right now, the internet is making what is a massive span of miles seem unfathomably far away. Right now, I feel two thousand light years away.
When I moved to Canada from Denver, I let myself die, repeatedly, inside. Every goodbye sucked a little bit of life out of me. I caved in on myself for a while and felt it. I didn't let myself meet new people for a long time. I didn't see new faces, I didn't hear new stories, I didn't hold new babies. I suspended myself in some weird loss-ridden vortex for a long time and ached for home.
Of course, Canada ended up being just as much home in 3 years as Denver had become in 15.
And now I'm back in that vortex. I'm in a neighborhood that doesn't have a Lauren outside chasing kids and a Sajeeda outside drinking tea and a Meera outside holding someone's kid and a Luke outside tweeting fabulously obscene 140 character sentences and an Andrew outside fixing everyone's bike and feeding the kids mint and a Brent washing his car and a Shawn and an Austin and a Dez watching really inappropriately frightening movies in my living room. I haven't seen so much as ONE neighbor yet, and I quite frankly don't want to.
I don't want to love these people. I don't want to have a favorite Texan, and I don't want her to fly halfway across the state to come stay for a weekend with me before I get kicked out of this place like my Canadian bella did. I don't want to have hundreds of pictures of their kids who will forever be suspended in the animation of FlickR, I don't want to hold on to four pasta bowls that don't match a god damn thing in my kitchen because someone used to make me Indian food in them. I don't want to have a size 5 hand-me-down toddler track suit in a ziploc baggy because it's the last thing that smells like a Texan's house.
I don't want anymore new. And so I've been ignoring this, this upheaval. I've drown myself in the Tasks At Hand that involve writing corporate web copy, unpacking boxes, washing laundry for 6 days, non-stop, and figuring out where to hang this damn Auspicious Animal. I've swooned in the space I am afforded in This Texas Life, because it's true; everything is bigger here. And so much fucking cheaper, I can't even believe it.
That big red home? 1/3 of the price of the Canadian blue home that was half the size. Not kidding.
I've been doing a great job of this. I haven't set up my office, on purpose, because setting up my office means turning on the Mac and that means 24" of everyone in Canada's life moving right on without me. It's 24 HD inches of faces I'm not going to see, of people across borders I won't see again for I-don't-know-how-long. It's reality, and reality is for pussies.
And then the first runny nose set in. And then I noticed the first flaw in the new house. And then I lost my momentum and let the dishes pile up. And then, this morning, I opened the packet for my health care policy enrollment forms.
And then it all hit me Square. In. The. Face.
I left. I left all of those things that I loved behind. AGAIN. I know what happens when you do that; I did it before, and I lost so much. And I'm tired of losing. I'm tired of giving up these relationships that form me and mold me and make me and my family better and stronger and safer and happier.
But here I am, thousands of miles from what I love in several different directions, with happy children and a professionally fulfilled spouse and a gorgeous kitchen and I think, if I'm going to live here, I'm going to have to let myself die a little first.
Or Midol. Maybe I just need to take some damn Midol.
We say, or at least think, that the internet bridges all spans of time and distance, but it isn't really true. Right now, the internet is making what is a massive span of miles seem unfathomably far away. Right now, I feel two thousand light years away.
When I moved to Canada from Denver, I let myself die, repeatedly, inside. Every goodbye sucked a little bit of life out of me. I caved in on myself for a while and felt it. I didn't let myself meet new people for a long time. I didn't see new faces, I didn't hear new stories, I didn't hold new babies. I suspended myself in some weird loss-ridden vortex for a long time and ached for home.
Of course, Canada ended up being just as much home in 3 years as Denver had become in 15.
And now I'm back in that vortex. I'm in a neighborhood that doesn't have a Lauren outside chasing kids and a Sajeeda outside drinking tea and a Meera outside holding someone's kid and a Luke outside tweeting fabulously obscene 140 character sentences and an Andrew outside fixing everyone's bike and feeding the kids mint and a Brent washing his car and a Shawn and an Austin and a Dez watching really inappropriately frightening movies in my living room. I haven't seen so much as ONE neighbor yet, and I quite frankly don't want to.
I don't want to love these people. I don't want to have a favorite Texan, and I don't want her to fly halfway across the state to come stay for a weekend with me before I get kicked out of this place like my Canadian bella did. I don't want to have hundreds of pictures of their kids who will forever be suspended in the animation of FlickR, I don't want to hold on to four pasta bowls that don't match a god damn thing in my kitchen because someone used to make me Indian food in them. I don't want to have a size 5 hand-me-down toddler track suit in a ziploc baggy because it's the last thing that smells like a Texan's house.
I don't want anymore new. And so I've been ignoring this, this upheaval. I've drown myself in the Tasks At Hand that involve writing corporate web copy, unpacking boxes, washing laundry for 6 days, non-stop, and figuring out where to hang this damn Auspicious Animal. I've swooned in the space I am afforded in This Texas Life, because it's true; everything is bigger here. And so much fucking cheaper, I can't even believe it.
That big red home? 1/3 of the price of the Canadian blue home that was half the size. Not kidding.
I've been doing a great job of this. I haven't set up my office, on purpose, because setting up my office means turning on the Mac and that means 24" of everyone in Canada's life moving right on without me. It's 24 HD inches of faces I'm not going to see, of people across borders I won't see again for I-don't-know-how-long. It's reality, and reality is for pussies.
And then the first runny nose set in. And then I noticed the first flaw in the new house. And then I lost my momentum and let the dishes pile up. And then, this morning, I opened the packet for my health care policy enrollment forms.
And then it all hit me Square. In. The. Face.
I left. I left all of those things that I loved behind. AGAIN. I know what happens when you do that; I did it before, and I lost so much. And I'm tired of losing. I'm tired of giving up these relationships that form me and mold me and make me and my family better and stronger and safer and happier.
But here I am, thousands of miles from what I love in several different directions, with happy children and a professionally fulfilled spouse and a gorgeous kitchen and I think, if I'm going to live here, I'm going to have to let myself die a little first.
Or Midol. Maybe I just need to take some damn Midol.
Reader Comments (79)
I have also started over several times and believe me I KNOW how hard it is to be unattached from the peeps that you have bonded with. Hope Texas embraces you and your gang and the pain becomes more bearable. Plus you moved at a good time of year the rains of BC winters UGGGH Does that feel better??
Oh, hon. I've been in this house and community for nine years now and the thought of having to leave makes me want to curl into a ball in the corner. You're stronger than me, though, and you will get there. Let yourself grieve the loss first, though.
I still can't believe you're gone. You'd become once of my favorite stops when I'd go down the Coast. I can't believe I'll never again get to sit in your shiny yellow living room and chat the hours away on your couch.
SIGH.
You know it will be fine, just like it was when you moved to Canada. And you know that you'll make the neighbours, again, who consider you a integral part of the neighbourhood and salute you with a glass of wine. You know we all miss you, but that's kind of the thing of you - we get lovely little moments that seem so big and fulfilling and then we want more. I'm still just impressed that I cried and let you touch me.
Let yourself mourn a little. It's a big change. Soon you'll find that the kids are once again filling your living room, your neighbor offers you a glass of wine regularly, and Texas feels normal. You'll find your tribe-I know you don't want to hear it right now, but you will. Who wouldn't love you?
(((HUGS))) That's all I've got. As much fun as the adventure can be, it still can suck being gone...
Okay, this is probably not going to make you feel better, so maybe you should skip to the second paragraph? But, all things happen for a reason, and those wonderful people you love in Canada were with you and touched your life at just the right time for a reason, and once you grieve the life-altering change, you will dust yourself off and allow the new neighbors to love you and touch your life, because you NEED it. And so does your family.
So, take some time. Scream it out (but not so loud that the neighbors hear you. You don't want them gossiping before they've had the privilege of meeting you.) let the dishes pile up and the Mt. Clothesmore laundry take over the hampers. Watch some depressing movies, but only for the next 2 weeks. Then, dust yourself off and join the world again. You will find endearing parts of your new home, and the people who surround you.
I'm not sorry to say I can't relate at all. I've never left other than to move for college, and then I've stayed here since. Really, I've only lived in two neighborhoods, and I feel fortunate.
I hope you find the bonds you crave and let yourself open up to them.
Also, shaunaglenn lives in Texas, so there's that bit of awesome.
Texas will grow on you. A little bit of dying inside is good for you, and you are smart enough to embrace it. That feeling will slowly be replaced by all the wonderful new adventures and people that are just waiting for you out there.
And, seriously? You haven't met any of your neighbors yet? They haven't shown up at your doorstep with plates of cookies and lists of helpful phone numbers? What part of Texas are you IN???????
:( I'm so sorry you had to leave and come HERE! I'm a Canadian living in Dallas, and I really wish we could go back, or at least be close enough to drive there! I have no words of comfort... I'm not sure there are any... just know it WILL get better... I'm sorry it has to though. I wish for you, that you could go back to Canada!
*hugs* Trufax: Moving sucks dingleberries off donkey balls. But! You have us all tucked into your pocket to peek out and say hello just like always. And when I signed on for this gig, I knew that Mr. Lady don't let a bitch outa pocket.
I am glad you are writing about this. It means you haven't completely shut down, but it is okay if you do. We will be here.
For just five minutes (days? hours? YEARS?) I would honestly give anything to trade places with you. Not to give up the stuff you had, but the starting fresh?? Yes, please.
I'm sorry no one has come forward to welcome you...if I were nearby, I'd have been pounding on your door the day you got there.
It sucks to leave stuff behind.
I'm so sorry. Moving sucks. I've moved so many times, I know what it's like to not want to let people in. I'm trying to drop my defenses because sitting here with my heart locked up is lonely. I hope your neighbours are a friendly bunch and that it starts to feel like home soon. Love you Mr Lady!
I hope a neighbour comes knocking with a cake, or a cup of coffee, or a funny story. I am sure it won't be long until you suddenly realise that you're immersed in a community of caring people with their individual personality quirks, and you'll wonder how it crept up on you.
I've live in London for 13 years now - and wanted to go home to Sydney for at least 8 of them. But I know when I d o - I'll be tearing myself out of the community I know and love, and moving to where I know no-one at all. My "old life" isn't there. I'll be starting again.
And at 40, I don't think that will be easy. I'll end up living through my kids connections. Or being the mad lady that keeps inviting the neighbours around to play pictionary.
I think you need to find yerself a good ole fashion roadhouse and drink some Texas tea!
Although I barely know you and have never met you, from your blog I can tell you will all do fine. It's hard to make a move like that but you're already ahead of the game since you've done it before. The true friends you had p North will always be friends and now you will have new faces not to replace in your book, but to add.
Plus, I'm pretty sure it'll be cheaper now to come visit all your favorite American friends! ;)
Fuck me hard.
Now I'm sobbing.
I'm with ya. As exciting as starting over can be, starting over against everything your soul tells you to do blows big time.
Moving sucks. Great big huge moves like that is just beyond sucky to the point of wanting to curl up in a ball for oh, say a year. I've done it several times and really I'm not very good at it. I hope though that you can find the things you need to make it a success.
Change sucks. But it gets better.
Hang in there.
Ok, so this is me http://thisnhlife.com/index.php/about/ When we first moved North, my daughter was 3 and I was so isolated I thought I'd damn near wither up and die. I was back in the Boston area as often as I could reasonably (sometimes unreasonably) find an excuse. I was connected and settled in Boston, my husband was not. The Internet and cheap gas saved me and my marriage.
Grieve it, mourn it and then go to a function at school and introduce yourself. It is hard as hell right now. The only thing you can do is put one foot in front of the other. Eventually it gets easier whether you want it to or not. While I have friends here, my besties are still livin' just outside of Boston. Not sure that will ever change. Not sure I care anymore.
Go see http://trueishstory.blogspot.com/ don't know her personally, but she's in TX, somewhat against her will. Of course she could be at the complete opposite end of the state for all I know.
Good luck!
I'm coming over.
Because I totally can now. Texas is a 45 minute drive from me...
I'll bring alcohol and dirty movies and you can cry and scream and totally freak out and whatever else it is that you need to do...
And then we'll get dressed up in our hooker books and two-step the night away at the nearest cowboy dive...
And then by the next day, your hangover will be so freaking bad that your move won't really matter all that much for a couple of hours...
And when those couple of hours are over, we'll do it all again.
For you and because I live in a crappy place..I will bring my family down and move in with you to keep you company..
Friends are great..Vancouver sucks.
Big hugs. I too and far away from all the things and people I love (except my family). It's bloody hard.
oh, i'm sorry. i have some chocolate malted krunch ice cream. that helps everything. i've only ever been able to find it at Rite Aid. i hope you have one nearby, and i highly recommend it if you haven't tried it.
my sister likes it with chocolate dipped gummy bears and vodka on the side. i like mine in a chocolate dipped cone.
yer welcome.
READY? ? Just sit down and shut up~
When one door closes - another opens!
But we look so long and regretfully upon the closed door...
We do not let ourselves see the ones which have been opened for us...
NOW GET UP AND BE HAPPY... any day you spend ABOVE ground is a day to celebrate !
Now GOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo~
i 2nd @redneckmommy. Dude, i am NOT a crier! and yet, like. a. friggin. baby.
first chance i get. coming to friggin texas. where everything is bigger and the guns will surprise the hell out of me, but YOU'RE there.
le sigh.
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ...: I haven't talked too much about the act.. http://bit.ly/5IKcEO
Oh that's just so sad. I've never moved away from Oklahoma - I tried once, but I think it's like a black hole of sorts. So I just plod along on the plains.
So Texas, hmm? Well, it's close enough that I can say "Welcome to our part of the world! As a housewarming gift, we will present you with Allergies! Never had them before? Oh you will now."
But I'm not from that side of the Red River, so maybe they don't have allergy problems. But every blasted person who has ever moved to Oklahoma swears upon their own personal souls that they NEVER had allergies before.
Aw. You might have to let me know where you're at, in a generic way and I can direct you toward better times.
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ... http://bit.ly/7acyxq
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ... http://bit.ly/4wFwQz
RT @ParentsLoveKids: Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ... http://bit.ly/4wFwQz
loss seems a constant, no matter how often we 'goddamn it', and with each one, including, for me, one move just past and another possible, i tell myself, something dies so that something better, or brighter, or just more compelling, can get itself born. sending you compassion.
I've moved around a great deal and never felt this kind of pain. The extent to which you love and settle in is something, grieve for your loss. Your friends are still with you. You will go on and you & the family will make the most of it, but Texas. I can't get over you all ending up in Texas.
Hell, I'm really not sure what it was I just read. What an agony yank. But, helplessly me, I still love you.
Ron
yeah, moving sucks. leaving friends and familiarity behind sucks.
i once moved 30 miles from my neighborhood and it was the most depressing move, mostly bc i was going to an area quite shabby.
i've driven 22 hours to a state in middle of winter to be hit by depression so much, and being the sole entertainer of the kids. i've left a country behind and my high school friends to come to the u.s. and in the end, i am like: God, if women can't make a home a home, no one can. Only moms can. we are the center of our kids universe and we gotta keep that universe going, i knew that. and i have days when i succeed and days when the laundry and dishes pile up.
i knew everything was diff for my children so i had to take care of my needs and theirs.
i can totally relate. i long to go back home. two yrs later, i'm like, i'm here and i'm not going to quit. a rolling stone gathers no moss. keep on rolling...!
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ... http://bit.ly/8f7TiU
I'm not going to try to make you feel better. You made ME feel better.
Can I be the Lifetime-movie sob story? thanks.
I just left an awful domestic situation, like--protective order "awful". I've been in my new place few days. And you know what? I'm scared. Badasses like you and I; we have a hard time admitting that. I'm supposed to be strong for my kids. I have to be. Everyone just expects it of us, who seem so blatant and willful and real. I do a good job fooling a whole lot of people, I guess.
But we'll move on and be happy where we are. We'll settle in and find our niche. That's cool. It's what we do.
It's okay to mourn what you left. If we don't remember all the little stuff, are we going to forget *everything*?! It's okay to be human.
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ... http://bit.ly/7pdDTg
RT @kidsgoape: Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » Pretty ... http://bit.ly/7pdDTg
I am sorry that you're having to go through this, my friend. I don't know what I can do or say that will make it better, except perhaps remind you that on your version of Sesame Street (aka Internet Street), we all still live right next door and totally need to borrow some sugar and want to invite your kid over for a playdate. It's not anywhere near the same as having physical neighbors you adore, but it's something. Call if there's anything I can do.
PS How much do we love that Judith is all fired up to come visit because Texas is only 45 minutes from her house -- and obviously Texas is small enough that you can't be much further away than the border!? She rocks.
*sniff*
omg... maybe it's hormones... but I'm all teared up now...
Canada misses you...
Haven't visited here for a while but. Wow you are back in the states!
Sorry aunt flo is screwing with you, I'll go bitch slap her on your behalf, transitions suck and I am wishing you all the very best in your new home.
And it will be good, give it time.
Give yourself time to mourn babe.
The house next door to me is up for sale. You could always move here.
You know, seeing you haven't unpacked your office yet or anything...
I am going through the same thing now, so I know how much it sucks. It sucks to leave a place you love behind, a place where you feel home, where you have friends, when you've made a life for yourself.
I have been depressed most of my time here. But then there are those days when I go out, meet someone for coffee, someone I met online usually, one of the other expats. And those days suck less.
I annoy myself getting all whiny about how much I miss NY. I don't DO whiny. But I think your way is better, accepting that this hurts and it sucks and letting yourself feel it. And then hopefully you can climb out of the dark hole and create a new life in the new place.
It's hard. And it looks like it can't be done right now, I know that so well. But we'll probably make it, both of us.
((hugs))
You'll find your space soon and can begin to settle in. Your new neighbors can't help but love you.
I can relate, 100%. I've moved so many times in the past decade, away from safe, secure, beloved places. You already know this, it takes time. It won't be the same, but it can be a different kind of fantastic.
You've done it before. You know it gets better. It just takes waaaaayyyy too long for my tastes.
You must know that while the internet doesn't make it better, it is one constant. This doesn't replace the personal, IRL connections you've lost, but the same people pulling for you in Canada are pulling for you in Texas. I think, perhaps, a virtual girls night out? Set up some conferencing software and open a bottle of whatever with your favorite ladies from the computing box. Lean harder on the virtual connections while you ease your way into real-life Texan ones.
We're here.
You've summed up the way I've felt about some of our moves so eloquently. Sometimes it's just so hard to start over, you have to spend some time wallowing.
Until we can arrange a family trip to help drown your sorrows in food and alcoholic beverages, I'll be glad to throw more web copy your way. :) Hang in there.
Before I get to offering support, allow me to whine just a minute. I wasn't technically your neighbor (but practically, being just across the border) and I always held out hope that one day I'd actually get to meet you. Now you live so far away and our little blonde girls will never get to play together while we drink vodka tea. WAHHHH!!
Ok, now for you. Moving away sucks. Especially when you've put down roots and enmeshed yourselves in people's lives. You can't yank something out of the ground without leaving a little bit of it behind. But you've got strong roots and you'll plant yourself again and wrap yourself around those near you. And they'll be DAMN lucky for it.
And now I'm not with my dumn metaphor.
I'm sorry you're sad and hurting. I hope it goes away soon.