First of all, I am happy to report that my “feeling” I had yesterday turned out to be nothing- as far as I know. Now on to my real post.
I live about 10 minutes from an airport. I pass it every day on my way to and from work. About this time of year, I start to get wander lust…. Especially when I know I won’t be taking a vacation during the summer. Some days (OK most days) almost all I can think about is how I wish I could just pack up my suitcase and go somewhere- anywhere. I could go visit my family in Kansas. I could go visit a friend in Florida. I could visit my cousins in Georgia. I could go somewhere and just disappear for a while.
Is this a cop-out? Would I be running away from everything, or would I be running to something? Would it be a vacation to get myself together and collect my thoughts, or would it be a flight from all responsibility? Where would I go and how long would I stay? Would I even tell anyone that I was leaving, or would I just pack up and sneak out of town and call later to say that I was OK? Am I a terrible person for even THINKING these thoughts?
I’m not unhappy with my life- I’m not sure what the word is. Restless, maybe? I’m sick of waiting…. Waiting to get pregnant, waiting until we get paid so I can go grocery shopping, waiting to paint the guest room because it will- one day- be a nursery, waiting for the weekend so I don’t have to wake up and do the same thing every day…. As I said before, I don’t do well with monotony. The Hubs- well, he can do the exact same thing every day forever and never get bored or restless. I’m not built like that.
Growing up in a house with so many people meant that SOMETHING was always happening. I could pick up my sisters and go shopping at the drop of a hat. Someone was always walking in the door to visit. There was always someone to talk to and somewhere to go. Now, I’m just far enough away to be out of everyone’s way, so I don’t get many visitors. My family and friends all live 20-30 minutes away (if they even still live in the state anymore), and with the gas prices going up, I’m feeling more and more like I’m living on an island. Apparently, I’m not coping well.
I’m becoming a real Debbie Downer lately. I’m really sorry, Internet. I wish I had the wit and way with words to make my introspective ramblings more pleasant to read, but the only things that my fingers seem to type lately just aren’t that interesting I’m afraid. Thanks for hanging in there with me. The statement around the blogosphere lately has been “comments are the new hug”…. And I could really use a hug or 2 or 200! (P.S. I Have a dr appt on Monday to discuss my Zoloft usage. I’m thinking I’m going to ask them to up my dosage, so maybe I’ll be a bit more positive soon!)