The fork in the road

It’s a new year, I’m about to turn 23 and instead of feeling elated and excited, I am feeling… blah. Is it because there’s not much work for me to do? Or is it because I’m feeling uncertain about life in general? I don’t know. All I can think of now is that I miss home, I miss my family, I miss my dog, I miss seeing friends all the time, I miss being around people, I miss feeling motivated, I miss feeling as though there’s nothing I can’t do. 

Instead, even as I’m writing this entry, I’m feeling unmotivated to finish my thoughts. What do I want?

I grow up. One more day as a child at home, sheltered by parents, accompanied by siblings.

Tomorrow, I leave this home and head into the real world. My own apartment, my own job, my own fiance and soon to be husband, my own family. I will be starting my own life and fraying the connection to this home, a home that will soon become “my parents’ home.” 

A part of me knows that this is time and that I am more ready than most to embrace an adult life. Another part of me dies a little each time I think about leaving home. My home for the last twenty two years has been with my family, my parents, my brother, my dog. My home is where I can sit back on the couch and snooze comfortably without anyone thinking a second thought. My home is where I know I will be taken care of, from food to laundry, accidents to purposeful mistakes.

There’s something terribly daunting about leaving this home and creating my own home. 

It’s been almost a year and eight months of laughter, love, late night fights that turned into tired, gentle kisses by the time morning rolled around. Actually far more of the first two than the last. We are getting married in almost exactly a year and the thought exhilarates me beyond belief. 

Yet even as I bask in the light of this beyond perfect relationship, there’s that voice whispering in the night. Will this happiness last? Will the giggling, the silliness, the tickling and tender whispers last for the next decade? The next five decades? Sometimes I lay awake in bed, watching him as he sleeps and the doubts niggle in the back of my mind. Three out of ten divorced women knew they were getting a divorce when they walked down the altar. Yes, I know I am not one of them, but what about the other seven who sincerely believed they had found the man with whom they would spend the rest of their lives? Could that be me? 

When we’re together and awake, I can’t imagine anything or anyone pulling us apart. But the mistakes of those around us, of those in this society haunt me when I’m alone. Can I be elitist enough to think these problems won’t touch me? Can I trust that there will never be a day where he and I feel no frisson of excitement and tenderness upon seeing the other? 

The uncertainty of it all boggles my mind. I suppose I can never ascertain that we will never have problems, but I know this is something that’s worth fighting for and fight for it I will. I may be young and idealistic, but I am also stubborn and persistent.

If I can’t fight for my own happily ever after, what is worth fighting for?

I hate last minute changes in plans. I hate changes in plans in general, but those last minute changes to a perfect weekend because all of a sudden a client needs you? Hate them with a passion.

I guess I should be used to it, going into a client-based industry, but I want nothing more than a stable life with my plans being realized and expectations being met. I don’t want that moment where my throat clenches up and I fight back that burning behind my eyes because someone else hadn’t planned in advance.

F that life.

I’m lucky that I have this time to stay home and reflect on life. Everyone else seems to be working or doing something important and the fact that my parents want me to stay home and not do anything is striking in comparison. It’s kind of scary to think how different this summer is from four years ago when I first graduated high school and was so excited to make some money. Back then, the idea of making money seemed so spontaneous and worthy of my time, whereas now, the idea of fulfilling leisure seems so wonderful and so hard to attain.

Coming back to Michigan always reminds me of how slow-paced this environment is; there’s no rat race, there’s no push from others to make yourself move ahead. There’s something terrifying about that prospect, but also so appealing. Perhaps this is the difference between being a slave to work and being a slave to leisure. Where to find the middle ground is a reoccurring question and one I will doubtlessly revisit in the future. 

Until then, however, I will enjoy this last summer of freedom from work and society. To that goal, I want to accomplish the following things:

1) Finish training for work
2) Study for GMATs
3) Learn a piece or two on the piano
4) Read
5) Paint/Draw
6) Take photos
7) Play tennis
8) Make a life bucket list

It’s odd being back home in Grand Rapids now. Even if this city is pretty awesome, it’s quite strange being back without any of the people I recognize (and like) around. I went to Festival earlier today with my mom and for once, it just struck me as so odd how little has changed over the years. There’s still all the food and music; there’s still all the drawing and swinging art places; there’s still face painting and bagpipers around every corner. I feel so different now and the people I see are still in the same world I had left four years ago. 

I love Grand Rapids with all its greenery and quaint suburban neighborhoods, but somehow it’s just not the same anymore.