Homesick
It's been bad. I want to go home. Get out of this town. Away from all these people. Outside doesn't feel good like it does in the town I grew up in. Dogs and kids can't get out and run like they could where I grew up. The air isn't the same, the pace is entirely different and you can't see the stars for all the apartment lights here. I hate it.
Sometimes it feels like I'm being crushed. Squashed by life in a place I don't belong. And I certainly don't belong here. I need the trees, the sun, the crickets...a garden. The quiet rest of the country. Home. I need to go home. I've been ten years living in a place where 30,000 people drive past our street every day and I'm suffocating. Collapsing in on myself. I'm just not meant for life like this. I love pizza delivery. I like grocery stores only two miles away. I like the closeness to school. But life here is detrimental to me. It hinders my ability to be happy.
I have this fantasy that's been building in my mind for months now. My pop is in the process of fixing his mother's house to move into. I have dreams of selling our house and taking the money to pay his off, adding a room or two and staying there with my pop. Pop could use the help, we would love pop's company, and I would finally be home. My heart would be happy - my spirit content.
My husband just don't realize when he says "there's no way we could fit in there" how much happier I would be. When we first met I was a girl from the country, a small place like that, though not that town and not one quite so small, but smaller than here. Slower than here.
It's been so bad that even my neighbor keeps telling me, has been telling me for years, how much happier I'd be if I made it back home. And I am convinced she's right. We'd live next door to my cousin and her three boys, we'd still be close to school, Leirin wouldn't even have to change schools. There's room for a garden, room even to have a horse, and we could have goats. I could spend evenings sitting in the swing on the porch again. I could have a workshop in the building out back, the kids could actually ride bikes there like I did when we were growing up.
I'm so afraid of living out my life here in this place. Stuck between two or three thousand people I don't know all living within walking distance. Having my kids live their lives in a neighborhood with nothing but drunken college kids driving at high speeds by our front door. I want out.
I've wondered if this has been the underlying motivation for all the work I do on the house. Maybe I'm convinced that if I can make this house the perfect place for our family that I can be happy here. Maybe that would be true of any house. I'm not sure. Whatever the reason for it, I could pack up and leave this place in the space of a heartbeat and never look back. Other than the fact that this is where we've raised our children so far, I have no connection to this place, nothing that binds me to it. I still long to go home and it gets worse and worse every day.
I may make it home one day. I hope.
Until I do I'm stuck here and I hate that that is how I feel about this place, our real home. Home shouldn't feel like a trap you're caught in, but it does to me. My only hope is that living in this town will become so annoying to even my husband, we will leave. I'm not sure that will ever happen. He's moved a lot and is highly adaptable. And since he spends most all of his time at work anyway, he is weighted by work responsibilities and is seldom touched by home life.
Maybe that fact makes it seem more like being trapped here. He's never going to _want_ to leave and I want nothing more.
end big whine.
It's been bad. I want to go home. Get out of this town. Away from all these people. Outside doesn't feel good like it does in the town I grew up in. Dogs and kids can't get out and run like they could where I grew up. The air isn't the same, the pace is entirely different and you can't see the stars for all the apartment lights here. I hate it.
Sometimes it feels like I'm being crushed. Squashed by life in a place I don't belong. And I certainly don't belong here. I need the trees, the sun, the crickets...a garden. The quiet rest of the country. Home. I need to go home. I've been ten years living in a place where 30,000 people drive past our street every day and I'm suffocating. Collapsing in on myself. I'm just not meant for life like this. I love pizza delivery. I like grocery stores only two miles away. I like the closeness to school. But life here is detrimental to me. It hinders my ability to be happy.
I have this fantasy that's been building in my mind for months now. My pop is in the process of fixing his mother's house to move into. I have dreams of selling our house and taking the money to pay his off, adding a room or two and staying there with my pop. Pop could use the help, we would love pop's company, and I would finally be home. My heart would be happy - my spirit content.
My husband just don't realize when he says "there's no way we could fit in there" how much happier I would be. When we first met I was a girl from the country, a small place like that, though not that town and not one quite so small, but smaller than here. Slower than here.
It's been so bad that even my neighbor keeps telling me, has been telling me for years, how much happier I'd be if I made it back home. And I am convinced she's right. We'd live next door to my cousin and her three boys, we'd still be close to school, Leirin wouldn't even have to change schools. There's room for a garden, room even to have a horse, and we could have goats. I could spend evenings sitting in the swing on the porch again. I could have a workshop in the building out back, the kids could actually ride bikes there like I did when we were growing up.
I'm so afraid of living out my life here in this place. Stuck between two or three thousand people I don't know all living within walking distance. Having my kids live their lives in a neighborhood with nothing but drunken college kids driving at high speeds by our front door. I want out.
I've wondered if this has been the underlying motivation for all the work I do on the house. Maybe I'm convinced that if I can make this house the perfect place for our family that I can be happy here. Maybe that would be true of any house. I'm not sure. Whatever the reason for it, I could pack up and leave this place in the space of a heartbeat and never look back. Other than the fact that this is where we've raised our children so far, I have no connection to this place, nothing that binds me to it. I still long to go home and it gets worse and worse every day.
I may make it home one day. I hope.
Until I do I'm stuck here and I hate that that is how I feel about this place, our real home. Home shouldn't feel like a trap you're caught in, but it does to me. My only hope is that living in this town will become so annoying to even my husband, we will leave. I'm not sure that will ever happen. He's moved a lot and is highly adaptable. And since he spends most all of his time at work anyway, he is weighted by work responsibilities and is seldom touched by home life.
Maybe that fact makes it seem more like being trapped here. He's never going to _want_ to leave and I want nothing more.
end big whine.
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