"... there's a
moment where there is no movement possible,
but you're going to have to suck it up and go forward,
entirely out of your control to either stay still
or return the way you came."
i read this line in another, recently discovered, on-line journal, and it struck a chord deep inside me. i think i have hit that point in my life where i will soon have to decide what it is i want. i have been moving forward. i know i have because first of all i am not slouching right now, at the keyboard. That may sound like drivel, but for me it really isn't. It is telling me that i am paying attention. That i not only need to pay attention, but that i want to pay attention. And i am not doing it for anyone else. i am doing it for me. Because if i don't, i will drown.
So. Returning the way i came is not an option anymore. And that scares the dickens out of me. Okay, i am saying hell in my head, but dickens sounds better here. But i know i can't stay still forever. i can keep working on the "inside" me.. but the outside me is going to have to make a move sooner or later.
And sometimes writing in this journal is just plain hard. Especially when my thoughts get all scattered. It gets really difficult to explain what i mean.
i suppose part of the problem is that in spite of the fact that i have been threatening to leave this house since the day i moved into it, i now kind of like it here. Not enough to keep me from whatever future is out there for me. i have to admit i will miss it here though, if i go somewhere else. Because i am noticing that no matter what room i am in, there is a piece of me.
There has been a lot of hard work and hours and sweat put into these walls i call home. Yet it doesn't feel homey anymore. It never really did. But there is a strong level of satisfaction that i get from knowing that i shaped the space into something more satisfying to me. i literally tore down the walls and opened everything around me. Was the fact that the walls were making me feel caged an indication that i was not moving forward? Was i trying to physically erase something that could only be appeased by tearing down my inner walls instead?
And now i walk around and touch the things i created, and still feel caged. i smile as i enjoy the larger pacing area and realize that this is exactly what i am doing. Pacing, like an animal. i feel something close to panic as i imagine having to spend the rest of my days here. Yet, i can't imagine myself in an apartment either. Weird.
i guess maybe staying home on the weekend isn't such a good idea after all.