Weighing Me Down

I feel like I've had so many heavy things on my mind lately.

Starting with death.  (Yeah, we're not easing in here).

I went to the doctor for my annual exam, four years later mind you, and she found a giant lump in my right breast.  Not the size of a pea, not the size of a marble, but maybe the size of a grape.  And not a regular size grape, a Costco size grape.  Those big plump ones.  Anyway, when she suggested I get it looked at I was initially calm.  This happened once before and it turned out to be nothing at all.  So I scheduled an appointment for an ultrasound about ten days out (the soonest they could see me).  In the meantime, my calm started fading.  I told a few people close to me and did some light internet searching.  I'm one of those people who prepares for the worst and then no matter what, you get good news.  This was a long time for these thoughts to fester.  I started planning out my last year of life if that's all the time they gave me.

The day had finally come and I headed to a women's health center to get it tested.  The place reeked of life changing news.  Not only that, but it was breast cancer awareness month and the place was slathered in ribbons and anything else pink.  I thought of the irony of being informed in an atmosphere such as this.  Even though I realize that the radiologist surely didn't break the news... or did he/she?

The ultrasound went smooth, but the nurse was a little concerned after feeling the lump and she got the radiologist concerned as well.  Next thing I know I'm sitting in a waiting room, alone and topless (draped), waiting for my first mammogram approximately ten years early.  The mammogram itself was weird, based mainly on the fact that the technician held, molded, squished, and kneaded my breast like it was a piece of meat or something.

After that I was free to go and they said there was no cause for concern.  I fled through the pepto bismal room and met with my doctor the following week.  She said not only is there no cause for concern, but there are literally no red flags.  Thank goodness I covered the topics of a) what to do with my belongings and b) how to pick out your next wife with my husband.  At least we're prepared.

Actually, I'm relieved that it's nothing... except that it's not nothing.  I still have a grape in my boob.  So there's that.  Turns out (surprise, surprise) that the doctor has no clue either and from here we watch and wait.  Oh the joys.

Next up: trauma.  So then there's this hurricane.

The Mr. has school in New York this week and we were set to fly out Tuesday/Wednesday.  I've been looking forward to this trip for months, so I was pretty set on going.  The hurricane didn't worry me much.  I mean, I did live in Florida for a fair amount of time and everyone knows that the aftermath is worse than the storm itself.  But then the airports closed and my husband's flight got changed no less than six times.  I finally cancelled but sent him on ahead because apparently Columbia Business School resumes the day after no tomorrow, or even during.  Acts of God have no place there.

I know he's fine.  The worst part of something like this is getting stuck or losing everything.  He has nothing there to lose and he has plenty of people who would happily take him in.  But then I get all worked up watching the news and feeling helpless and thinking of extreme circumstances in which he might never come home, and it just makes me want to be together.

On a happy note, everyone I know in the greater New York area is alive, safe, and well taken care of.  I do have a friend who lost everything and my heart is breaking for her.  I know a few people who in the past lost their homes to fire and literally had to start over from the ground up.  They say it was the worst, most testing time of their lives, but that looking back it was such a growing experience.  So I know my other friend will be ok too.  Looking at pictures of all the wreckage just tears me up inside though, thinking of how I'd feel if it were me.

Oh and also, my best friend has been in the children's hospital for the past two days with her newborn who needs surgery and her eight year old who had surgery on his broken arm.  Neither one of them is entirely serious, but just extremely stressful.  And her sister lives in New York.  Sheesh.

And last: the passing of time.

Mr. had his birthday last week and mine is right around the corner.  So are the holidays and a brand new year.  I mean, I think about these things a lot, so it's not like this is a new topic or anything.  Sometimes it's a blessing as a new year means my husband is almost half way through grad school.  But sometimes it's harder knowing that we are still right here in many of the same places.  I've been feeling genuinely happy and grateful for how well life is going lately.  Grateful almost to the point of guilt.  I know it's just part of my search to fill my days with not only tasks, but meaning, and I continue to try and do so.

Time is passing, we are forging through trials, and no one is dying yet.  I know somewhere in the grand scheme of things that God has a plan for us.  I have been intently focused on that as I experience things in life and wonder WHY?  I guess all I can do in the moment is live for today.

Election Year

Generally I try to use this blog to voice my opinions without getting overly controversial.  I try to stay away from political or religious heavy topics, and just touch lightly on the subjects from how I view them in the context of personal experiences.  But I think for just a moment, I'm going to make an exception.  It is an election year after all, and it's hard to have much else on your mind with the election itself only two weeks away.

There's a lot to be said about each candidate and honestly, none of it matters to me.  Republican vs. Democrat has become such an embarrassment for us as a country and we hold a very Libertarian household.  What is a Libertarian you might ask?  A friend once said it best, "It means you want the government to get the hell out of your life."  Simple as that and yet not simple at all.

I'm tired of the country handing us two candidates, both owned by the political party they embrace, backed by dirty money that expects their agenda to be followed pending election, and giving us the illusion that any of it is OUR CHOICE.  That's just BS.

We live in a complex world that will never be anywhere near perfect.  Without a doubt, I believe it will continue to get worse before it gets any better, as a whole.  I will be voting and I can guarantee that I will not participate in the process of elected dictatorship.  What has happened to liberty and democracy?

I think I grew up in a Republican household.  I say I think because my dad never said a word about it and my mom never declared it but always planted Republican ideals in my mind.  This was not apparent through her love of Republicans so much as her distaste for Democrats.  I don't know if I have a core rebellious nature or common sense just kicked in early, but even at the most basic level I knew I was just a little bit more Democrat, even though the social ideals of my religion seemed to coordinate with the Republican agenda.  As a grew older I realized I couldn't side with either one completely.  That's when things started to get weird, because Americans seemed so passionate about their party affiliation and I could not find a way in my mind to agree with one side completely.  It just seemed like everyone had something to bring to the table just the same as they had skeletons in their closets.  Imagine my surprise when I learned about more than two parties!

Our system is corrupt even at the most basic level.  Our country is in crisis a every turn, many of which I have felt the effects very personally.  It just seems that if we continue choosing between two forms of poison, or the lesser of two evils as most say, then we are still hurting ourselves.  It's time for real change.  If we don't vote our conscience now, we never will.  Fact: whomever I vote for will not be the next president, but that doesn't change my mind.  America needs to know that we have options, real options, and I will vote for any third party who will help us get to that point.  There will never be any change if we don't demand it.

On the Road Again

I once attended some sort of shark seminar at the Monterey Bay Aquarium with the Mr.  They showed us a tracking map of the sharks they had tagged and followed to learn more about their behavior and patterns.  Today, in one of the three airports I found myself in, I wondered what my map would look like if someone were tracking me.  Or even better, tracking me and the husband.

I imagined someone tagging me with a gps the way Walter White helps Hank track Gus in Breaking Bad.  

I don't mean to seem braggart or ungrateful, but I'd have been happy to stay home this week.  Turns out that our new city is really growing on me.  Husband is overseas at school this week and I needed to squeeze some work in, so here I am in the sunshine state.  Even people with no real jobs have to work sometimes!  And I love the work.  I'm just.... tired.

Maybe it's a combination of too many airport scans, or carrying luggage with a mildly injured back, or the changing weather that brings with it the infections and viruses of the season and causes my arthritis to flare up, or... maybe I'm just getting old.  I feel like there are so many things weighing on my mind lately and I know I could be getting a lot done.

Even with my "over it" attitude, I am very excited to see friends and family this week.  I feel myself growing apart from the things that once meant the world to me and it makes me a bit sad.  That's why I was happy to see this:

It's this old unimpressive sign at the airport and every time I see it I think, "Really Orlando?  Some 50 million visitors a year and you can't update your welcome sign?"  (and trust me when I say it looks much more haggard than when this picture was taken).  But then it occurred to me that when the sign changes I'll also feel sad that this one is gone, if only because I take a mental note of it so frequently.  It has a way of saying that amongst constant change, it's still the place I love and remember so fondly.

It reminds me of a video rental store in the little town I grew up in- Cosmos Video on Main Street.  It's the kind of place where you can still rent VHS tapes after you've chosen the cover from the shelf and exchange it for the actual movie in the brown case.  Last time I was in there they still kept records on file via rolodex.  I check to see if it's still standing every time I drive by and sure enough, a lasting memory from my childhood!  It seems like everything else has changed there.  Numerous video stores have come and gone, the local grocer relocated down the street in a new building, about 15,000 more people have moved in, and I've lost count of the traffic lights they've added (to my recollection there was only the one).  My cousins moved out of their house to make way for Wendy's.  But still stands Cosmos Video, a familiar face amongst a sea of strangers.  

To be completely honest, I don't care much if it goes (Cosmos or the welcome sign), but it's been long enough now that I will remember these things forever, resembling a constant amid so much change.

House Sweet Home

I've just returned from three weeks of vacation.  It was wonderful and interesting and loads of fun.  However, I have returned with a nasty head cold, back pain, and overwhelming exhaustion.  Such is life.  And as a fun addition we have been nicely evicted from the corporate apartment we've been living in for the last six months.  This means that not only did I have to pack my suitcases, but my whole domain before we left and have returned to a place that is entirely new to me.  I don't know where anything is and I am counting my lucky stars that the former resident/landlord left us a bed and some other crucial home necessities.

Which brings me to the house.  HOUSE, people.  Not only is it one of my favorite television dramas, it's also the best kind of place to live.  I'll admit that apartment living can at times be more convenient, and definitely less expensive, but it is never as nearly luxurious.  It has me pining for one of my own again and I thought that would take three times the amount of calendar days that have passed for me to say it out loud again.

The sitch: landlord is in the process of selling this place and subsidizing her losses by letting us pathetic folk live in it on a month to month basis until it sells.  The rent is cheap, the living is large, and I no longer have to cover my ears when I hear the neighbors while wondering, "what the hell is going on up there?!"  Sharing walls is so uncivilized.  Human beings need more space and ample amounts more privacy.

Anyway, the highlight of living here besides grass (grass! We didn't even have this in our own home!) is that the garage is attached to the home.  This means that I can park my car about 30 feet from where I sleep.  That's the dream, people.

Landlord lady (who is actually probably younger and significantly more well adjusted than me) has left little reminders of her presence over the past five years.  A few nails in the wall, a scuff on the door, faded fingerprints on the thermostat, and things of the like.  It's really sweet because I remembered as I packed up my own home after three years of living in it that all of these little imperfections symbolized the life we had had there.  It made me feel really sentimental and although we don't have children and our milestones are not yet that significant, I thought of my neighbor telling me that when she left her last home all she pictured as she walked out was her kids all taking their first steps in the living room in a way that was reminiscent of that scene in You've Got Mail when Meg Ryan closes her book shop and pictures her twirling with her mother.  Landlord lady told me that she was sentimental about selling this place because it was her first house.  For her sake I hope it sells soon, but for our sake I want to stay forever.  I'm in love.

And just maybe I'll get over my bitterness of owning a home and bite the bullet again someday.  I love it here.

Like Sand Through a Sieve

Nine years ago I became a nanny for a short time.  I was temporarily filling in as a relief nanny when, since my sister (the former nanny) left, the family had a hard time replacing her.  My time was numbered in months, but I have so many cherished memories and unexpected emotions from living with such a sweet family (verdict is out on whether I'd have labeled them such at the time).

The kids- E, B, and S- were nine, seven, and four respectively.  I turned 22 while living with them and in a bit of a life rut.  I remember the mother joking about doing some soul searching and said, "I hope that's not what you're trying to do here."  It was never what I had in mind and I didn't plan for it, but I've realized my time there has reaped all it's rewards in long term benefits.

I know that this family would never embrace me the way they did my sister.  She was adored by them in every possible way and I had no intentions of living up to that.  Still, there was a sweetness they conveyed to me through their affection for her.  I also found it valuable in my relationship with my sister, which had always been a little rocky, that they loved her so deeply.

There are many horror stories to be told from the nanny diaries, but I was very lucky in the way they treated me.  Socially I always knew where I stood at any given moment and for 99% of the time, that was as a family friend and not "the help."  I loved those kids and grew so affectionate for them in such a brief time.  I don't think it was merely a matter of circumstances.

I've had the sheer pleasure of keeping in touch with them, sharing weddings, Bar/Bat Mitvahs, birthdays, and casual meals when passing through town (working both ways).  But tonight I find myself in their home, spending ten days with E while the rest of the family is away.  As you surely understand, E is no longer a child in need of care, but a beautiful young woman headed to Harvard in a matter of weeks.  I'm here mainly for the sake of company on both our parts.  We enjoyed a really nice evening together and I'm excited to get to share more of that over the next week or so.  Although it's not the first time it's happened regarding them, I can't help but feel sentimental.

I never enjoyed Mary Poppins as a child, but as an adult I adore it.  It makes me tear up nearly every time I watch it now.  I'm not claiming to be any kind of magic worker like Mary Poppins or anything, but I think I can relate to her in sharing joy from watching a family grow together and succeed.

As a nanny you often feel like a puppet, doing a job by someone else's command.  I'd often lie in bed at night and wonder what kind of relationship my sister and I would have with these kids in the future (if any).  It was hard for me to imagine interacting with them as adults.  As they have become just that, I marvel at the wonderful people they are becoming.  I can't emphasize how miniscule my role was in their lives, but I still feel such great joy thinking that I may have been a part of it.

As the past ten years have literally flown by, they have grown into these amazing people.  I feel like those children are shadows of the greatness they are today, and yet by comparison I feel so unchanged.  I feel a pang of tenderness as I think of all the time that has passed, all while feeling like it's stood still.

I've felt an astute awareness of the passing of time lately, and I can't help but think of Bert's words to Mr. Banks near the conclusion of Mary Poppins:


You've got to grind, grind, grind at that grindstone... Though childhood slips like sand through a sieve... And all too soon they've up and grown, and then they've flown... And it's too late for you to give


It's bittersweet.  Fortunately I've been able to have this feeling before having my own children and I surely don't intend on letting it pass me by.

You don't have to state the obvious.

A while back my friend Melissa moved to a new city and was essentially starting a new life after school and what not.  It was a lot of big changes all at once and she claimed that it was always what she wanted to do.  Still, those close to her could see the tide of uncertainty in her eyes.  I knew she would be just fine.  After all, I've been through many a transition of that nature and there's always an adjustment period.  It was clear to see that Melissa was going through this, but she felt it necessary to "prove" to everyone that she was living her dream by stating "I am so happy.  I am just so happy here!"

Part of this was a good thing- it was obvious that she wanted to be happy there and that it would eventually come.  The bad part was how unconvincing it was- if she were really happy in the moment then she wouldn't have to make the statement over and over again.  Literally, she said it to me and my husband five times during one meal.  When mutual friends had seen her they'd say to me, "Melissa seems good.  She seems happy," and I'd immediately counter with, "Yes, I'm sure she told you just that."

The happily ever after for Melissa is that she has now been living there for about three years.  She never talks about how happy she is anymore because it is so apparent.  She's in a good place and she doesn't feel the need to convince anyone of it.

I can't say I've never had this problem.  The biggest that comes to mind is that I'm famous for being on my death bed and telling every one who sees me, "I'm reeeeaaaaaallly sick."  Duh.

I'm working on it.

Lately my friend Britney has me pondering this idea because she keeps stating things that are so obviously not true, but no doubt she wants them to be.

Examples?

"I'm more secure with myself the longer I'm married."
"I honestly don't care what my mother-in-law thinks."
"I don't really need friends.  I'm just not in that stage of life."

It's not the statements themselves that raise a red flag, but rather her contradictory actions and the repetition.  I mean, if she were so overly confident, would we not see that?  If she were not concerned about her mother-in-law wouldn't we see that?    If she didn't need friends, wouldn't she stop trying so hard?

It just goes to prove that the most obvious statement you can make is through your actions.  These words seem like a desperate plea to be something you're not, and in most cases, the exact opposite of what you are.

Life on the Go

I just finished doing laundry and as I was hanging up my shirts I realized that I haven't hung up any of my clothes since last summer when I had a handful of hangers in the extended stay hotel we were living in for  four months.

And that's about as deep as our roots run, folks.

The truth is, we move a lot.  The other, even greater truth, is that we love it.  The excitement of a new adventure always waiting around the corner.  Never knowing where you'll be two weeks from now, forget about a year from now.  New restaurants, new shops, new sightseeing, new friends.  It's just the way we live.  I'm afraid it's become a little addicting.

Still, there are downsides.  We're pretty good at coping with them and sometimes I think to myself, "no wonder people think we're crazy!"  I have the benefit of being a human GPS and an avid explorer.  I've been in Austin for a week and could already tell you almost everything to see within a 10 mile radius.  But my husband is back on the road this week and I am alone.  All alone.  I have no friends here.  I have nothing to do.  I'm a partial homebody, so when I go into lockdown mode, sometimes it's days before I leave the apartment or have any interaction with another human being.

We went to church on Sunday for the first time.  That's always the worst.  I suppose the expectations of finding friends always overpowers the fear at being new and unusual, but it always creeps back in.  It's always in that moment that I miss Phoenix and all the stability we had there.  I have to remind myself to live in forward motion.  For all I know, six months from now this could be my favorite place in the world (I doubt it, but we'll see).

It's nice to actually go to the store and be able to buy laundry detergent in some form other than single load packets from the travel section.  Same goes for a lot of other things around here.  I've actually even unpacked my toiletries and I'm trying to filter through them before I buy anything new.

I also like living with few attachments.  I've purged most of our belongings since Phoenix and even though we still have way more than we need, we're getting there.  It's nice to know that you can live on so little.

I'm not trying to evoke sympathy.  I'm just in the adjustment period and since there is no end sight for this stop, there's a lot of uncertainty that comes with it.  Still, we're all set up in a great apartment with plenty to do, decent weather, and did I mention that the company pays our rent and even has a maid come in once a week?  Yeah, it's pretty spectacular.

Ordinary Day

Today was so bittersweet.

There was nothing exciting about it in the least.  Nothing great and nothing terrible, the way that most days present themselves.

I felt a bit out of sorts all week.  Mostly thanks to the monthly rush of hormones overtaking my body against my will.  I've been experiencing every range of emotions from rage, hurt, tenderness, bliss, and solemnity.  I'd be lying if I said I knew a great deal about coping with these extremities, so as usual, I handled them poorly and hoped that it would pass quickly.

It seems to have been contagious because I feel like my husband has mirrored every emotion at varying times, if only out of frustration.  It seems to be wearing on him the way it's now wearing on me in a double dose.  So I could hardly blame him for his minor meltdown this morning followed by a mild blowup at me over something trivial.

The truth is, I just need to be alone.  Somehow in this strange existence I've grown into this appreciation for my time being a loner, both in circumstances and personality.  I feel like societally I should be ashamed of this, but instead I've sort of embraced it and let it become a permanent part of me.

This year started off with a bang- so much excitement in such a short amount of time.  I've loved every second of it.  But somewhere along the way I've realized that I've had very little alone time.  Much less than usual at least.  And to be quite honest, I just can't function without it.  I crave solemn, quiet moments more than I crave crowds and acceptance, or social interactions.  That's not to say that I don't get lonely, because the pangs of loneliness, once they set in, cannot be easily cured, even to the point of madness.  I guess it just takes longer for me to get there than most people.

So after subsiding my natural reactions to lash back out at my husband, I brushed him off and went about some of my business.  Not avoiding him completely, but definitely trying to sustain my momentary independence.  Once I felt some portion of success, I calmed down enough to at least make it through the day.  Time, as nearly always, is my best and favorite ally.

My husband is so sweet.  He is everything I dreamed he would ever be and more.  He is such a better husband than I am wife.  I don't think his talents lie in expressing himself accurately, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that he wants the best for me, and for every other minutely important person in his life, for that matter.  I have a handful of moments, like today, where I just loathe him.  I want anything but to be around him.  But then, there are moments when I am overwhelmed with love for him.  I have had many of these moments earlier this week.  The pangs of tenderness are so hard to show externally, but they burn at my very soul.  I can't help but remind myself that I would be nothing without him.

And where the day started out as nothing special, I end it being reminded of how lucky I am to have him and every other blessing in my life.  Sometimes, after almost eight years of marriage, I look into his eyes and realize that we are but familiar strangers just helping each other through life.  That love really is a force drawing us to each other, every hour of every day, despite the angst we might feel for each other at times.  And that if I could go back in time and choose all over again, I wouldn't choose any differently.

I guess today was really special after all.

I'm Starting with the Man in the Mirror

Or in this case... woman.

Sigh.  I miss blogging and although there's a handful of things I really ought to be doing right now, I feel like I just need to take a moment for myself and reflect on a few things in my life right now.

Life is good.

I wish I could help every one of you understand how sincerely I mean that.  I feel so abundantly blessed in my life right now, regardless of my trials.  I think back a couple years ago and remember how I wondered if I'd ever be able to say that again, and then I realize how far we've come.

I feel like the last two and a half years have been very challenging.  There were times when I'd felt like I had lost nearly everything.  There have been times when loneliness has literally taken over my existence and made me feel completely unimportant in this world.  There have been trials, big and small; some faced gracefully and some not handled well.  I'm not thankful for them all.  I think people who say that are liars.  Given the choice, I wouldn't go through them again.  I also think people who say otherwise are liars.

But here I am.  And not only that, but I feel like the transformation has only begun and it's gaining momentum quickly.  I feel a lot of positive change on the horizon mixed with a whole new outlook on life.  I've never, at any point in my existence, been so ready to embrace it.

Last month my husband took me to Las Vegas and we saw Cirque's Immortal show based on Michael Jackson.  I didn't love the show, but I love me some MJ.  Say what you will about him, but I think starting with the man in the mirror is exactly what we all need to do and I feel like at this point in my life, I have the courage to do it.  Thank you for a beautiful, positive message!

Forge ahead fearless souls!  Make a difference, even if it's only for yourself!

Chance Encounters

Sometimes I really enjoy running into people I know.  I remember the first time I recognized someone I knew at our Walmart in Phoenix and I thought, "this is really where we live!" for us, these little things are huge things, mostly because our lives are more transient than most.

That's not to say we don't run into people on the road too, because we do.  Mostly it's more fun that way because it's especially unexpected.  More than once I've seen an old college friend in an airport somewhere.  And in today's world where we track each other's every move electronically via social networking, it's even better when it's a real surprise.

Still, I think these encounters are a novelty because they don't happen all that frequently. I don't always have good days, and even if I did, I don't want to run into people I know everywhere I go.  There's always the mandatory chit chat that takes place...

How you doing?
Fine.
What's new?
Not much.

Blah, blah, blah.

Am I the only person who dislikes these interactions? I guess I just feel like I'd rather hear something of substance.

Anyway, my home town is small, and not only is it small, most people never leave.  If I had to guess the percentage of my graduating class that lives within and hour I'd say it's anywhere from 60-85%. seriously.

Now, I hate to be the kind of person that lets stupid things in high school dwell with me for life, but I didn't love it. I should be over it, and in many ways I am, but I don't like feeling like I'm reliving it, even occasionally.  I keep track of the people I want to, I see most of the people I want to, and there are only a few exceptions, a handful maybe. I really feel like life got good the day I graduated, and the further I got from "home" the more amazing it got... exponentially.

In the same way I love to see some people, I really hate to see others.  Not because I hate them as people, just because I am apathetic and don't feel like they can serve any remaining purpose in my life or I in theirs.  That's a terrible thing to say isn't it? Well, it's true regardless.

So you can just picture me at the store with my mom the other day when I heard a familiar voice and turn around to see two old high school friends catching up.  One I didn't want to see and the other I didn't mind, but either way I knew I didn't want to be caught in the middle of them.  Luckily I saw them before they saw me and I tried to strategize a way to exit the building without them noticing me. We were in a hurry anyway so I couldn't feel that bad about it.  Unfortunately they were standing right near the doorway. My first mistake was telling my mom, "I don't feel like talking to high school people today." she understood, but given their physical position she insisted that I'd at least have to say hi.  Which I did, after she drew attention to the fact that we were there.  Nothing more, nothing less, just "hi" before making a quick exit.

Ugh. I couldn't shake the feeling of how much I hate that.  It always reaffirms the fact that I chose to move away and never return. I think my husband is the only one that understands this weird quirk (can it even be called that?) of mine.  Not because he can relate, but because he's heard me talk about it for the past seven and a half years of marriage, my opinion and decision never wavering.  My sisters know I'm this way, but I don't think they get it at all ( not that they should).

I knew even before I left high school that the world was waiting, and the moment that became apparent I couldn't wait to get the hell out. It was the best thing ive ever done for myself. So when I explain it to my husband I tell him that the stubbornness to never return comes from this self created image of failure.  It's odd in a way.... I mean, if I were to live there I'd see myself as having failed at life, but I don't typically view other people that way.  I get that some people choose to live there and some, in fact, could never bear the thought of leaving (insert future rant). Either way, I don't disrespect them for being there unless they constantly say they don't want to be.  But if it were me, I'd be overcome with defeat stemming from the determination I had to leave in the first place.

Perfect example: I'm at dinner with my husband and some of my well traveled and successful friends from high school (from the classification of those I adore and keep track of). I'd go into more details, but they have seen the world and seen it good.  They are open minded and interesting and have accomplished all kinds of things that I value in a person.  Then one of them turns to me and says, "so how badly do you want to end back up in our home town?" while holding the vomit down I caught a glimpse of longing in his voice, which I semi-respected. Then I answered for myself, "about as badly as I want a root canal." here we are in Times Square, in one of the greatest cities on earth, and by far the most superior city in the US, and not only are we there, but I'm living there at the time and all I can think is that I feel so blessed to feel a sense of belonging here, something I never felt growing up, at least after the age of eleven.  Still, I had to credit him for wanting that.  Surely he knew better.  Surely he'd seen what else was out there.  And if there's anything I truly respect its people who make decisions based on who they truly are.  My disgust for him wanting to move back there was replaced with respect for our differences and the fact that we could remain friends in spite of them.

We all experience life differently.  We all grow in different places and at different times. And when it comes down to it, I just enjoy my wings more than I'll ever enjoy my roots. My parents and family may not like that at times, but they were the ones who opened my eyes and made me look around in the first place, and I thank them for it tremendously.