I hate Duality

Well, tonight is almost my last night in Idaho with mom. I hate this shit. I hate that to move forward means moving away from where you were. Doesn't matter where, or whom, or when, it's always the same. To go to New Zealand meant to leave NAU, to adventure on with Sjoerd meant to leave Queenstown, to meet Ray meant to leave Sjoerd, to have my life in Tucson means to not have life with mom. To go to Asia means to not have any of it, anything else. It means deepest enrichment of the newest kinds but complete isolation from all that was.

Most pertinently at the moment, to go back to Ray, and the ratties, and my room, and hockey, and enjoying a wonderful relationship, means to give up the fun days exploring and hanging out and doing lots but doing little, and getting to see my cousins, and hanging out with mom. Life can be so unfair. It's like it throws these lessons in your face, and I'm cognizant about how I should be making the most of it, but how do you really? I mean you reach a saturation point where there's just not much to do in the minute to minute, but watch the sand trickle through, until at the end of it you're left holding the top empty and the bottom full, and then it's time to pick up and move on and say goodbye again.

I know there's no real option but to hunker down and never move again, and maybe that's why so many people do that. But for better or worse, I wasn't born with that option instilled, and it never did get grilled into me. How could it, I'm the product of a nomadic mother. It's done me great good that those same people who hunker will never know, but damned if it doesn't give me wrenchings that they'll never know either.

Anyways, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just feeling the bummer of it all. I've had fun, and I can't entirely say I want to leave, and I can't entirely say I don't want to go home. I'm stuck in the middle, and I hate it. Well. I'M not stuck in the middle. Life will carry me on regardless of my feelings about it, so I guess it's just my feelings that are stuck on it. And in the end oh the fuck well about that. It's back to work on Wednesday anyway and then this and that and this and that and on and on and on.

Ugh I know I'm working towards something with great payoff down the road but it's getting harder to see that. The travel seems just as daunting as the work to earn the travel. I don't want to go back to the grind and I don't want to be out on the limb either. But I don't want to kill myself either so where does that leave a person?

One foot in front of the other, I suppose. One day at a time, with a deep breath, or a try at it anyway which is usually the best I can muster, and knowing that even though at the moment it doesn't feel like this feeling will ever pass...it will, and probably it won't take too long after all. It's always been the moment of change anyway that was the hardest. I didn't even want to remove myself from that grind all that much to begin with, right, so why should it be so hard to go back. I guess it won't be so hard to BE back (so I'm telling myself emptily at the moment), it's just the GOING back. So much work...so much faith...and on what? I've never been these places, I don't speak the language, I don't know the people, I don't know that it will all be worthwhile....

But, well, even as I speak the words I know they are untrue. Well, they are true, most of them. But I do know that it will be worthwhile.

It always has been.

But still.