Every once in a while, I’m possessed of the urge to pick up, pack up and run. It usually comes at a point where I’m frustrated, sad, overwhelmed, lonely or bored.
And it’s a great tactic, until I get to the part where I have to figure out where I’m running.
There are usually two options.
Home. I need comfort, I need family, I need the familiar. I want to go back, I want to be loved unconditionally, I want what I know. This is usually tied to being overwhelmed, sad or lonely.
Not Home. For years, I’ve said I don’t want to be more than a few hours drive from home (unless my dream job opened up, and FYI, my dream job just opened up), and that’s become more true since the arrival of Baby J. But. But. There’s a chance my entire family will relocate in the coming year or so, and that’s got me thinking. At first, I was devastated and despondent. But could this choice by my family be freeing for me? Could it stretch and push me? Do I need to see this as an opportunity?
I’m not leaving yet. I’m not sure I’m leaving at all. Washington has become home to me in a way that I never anticipated. There are people here whom I love fiercely. I have come into my own here, become stronger and smarter and more confident. My job, most days, is empowering and challenging and surrounds me with people I love and adore.
But there’s something here to think about, I think.