Running away to Home

Today I want to run away from home.

I want to pack a bag, get in my car, pack up the dogs and head home to my childhood home.  I want to be greeted with open arms in my childhood home, allowed to sleep late, eat junk food and watch bad reality TV all day.  The problem of course is that none of this could ever happen.

I have a house here.  I have to have a big garage sale, I have to find movers, I have to pack up what’s left after the sale, and I have to move across the country.  I have a divorce to muddle through, assets to divide, healing to accomplish.  I have a future to coordinate, a job to find, a place to live, a transition to manage. I have daily stuff to get done here, dogs to walk, bills to pay, a car to get repaired now.  I have sewing projects, writing projects, photography projects. I have commitments to friends and groups here.  All of these things take time, energy and commitment I can’t seem to muster because I just want to go to my childhood home, crawl under the covers and come out when someone else has fixed it all.

Everyone I know is trying really hard to help- but they can’t.  All of this is stuff only I can do, and I don’t want to.  I just want to wake up in a different place all of this stuff, this stuff required to move forward from all of this to be done.  Every time I take a step toward getting any of this done, I feel as though I’m taking two steps backward.  I know what I’d tell everyone else… “the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.”  But it feels as though the elephant is sitting on my chest making it impossible for me to move.

So today- because it’s supposed to be all about me, I’m going to write a list.  Nothing on the list is going to be about doing something for anyone else.  I’m just going to do what I need to do and everyone else can wait.

 

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