Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Time and Distance

I've been mulling something over and over in my brain the last few weeks, maybe months. I thought maybe if I sit and write it out, I can come to some sort of conclusion and maybe get some closure. 


Atlanta.

Ah, the one-time city of my dreams. Back in 2001, and impromptu and serendipitous trip there had me convinced that it was the cure for all that ailed me. Seeing how much the city had grown on a re-visit four years later only strengthened my belief that there I could truly thrive. But once we arrived in 2006, things were different. I was different. 

At the time of our initial visit I was troubled. My life and mind were full of chaos, and I was always looking for an escape. Sometimes it was on the edge of a razor, or a bottle of pills, but in Atlanta I saw a way to escape without hurting myself or anyone else. It seemed, at the time, the way to salvation. But life doesn't always work according to plan, and we ended up staying in Philly. 

At first I was desolate, but life eventually evened out. As I got control over my external workings, I realized that perhaps I also had it in me to quiet the din going on inside me as well. It was a rough (and expensive) few years, but I managed to come through it mostly unscathed. My son was born, and I was happier than I had been in a long, long time.

When again we were presented with the possibility of moving south, we jumped. This time, things worked in our favor and we moved onto Peachtree Road. While our actual apartment left something to be desired, the location was great and I soon set about getting to know my new home and the people in it. 

But something wasn't clicking. Maybe it was the heat. Or maybe it was that I wasn't looking for an escape route anymore. Somehow, things seemed wrong. Or at least, not right. I could never put my finger on it, but I felt that I had become untied from the earth and was just sort of hovering around in the atmosphere. Maybe it was hormones. God knows that with only 18 months between Sam's birth and Lucy's birth I was a raging cauldron of female confusion. And at the time, I honestly thought that a return to Philly would cure all that ailed me.

So here I sit, back in Philly for 17 months. I can't say I feel cured yet. Maybe it's all the hormones. Or maybe it's something else. 

Something I might have to spend a lot of time and money figuring out. 

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4 comments:

susan said...

I am so with you, my dear. Standing at a crossroads I cannot see, listening for directions in a howling wind. Yell out... I'll see if I can make my way over to you and we can at least hold hands until we figure out what's supposed to happen next.

Wish it could be literally as well as figuratively...

Lora said...

I'm here too, going through much the same thing without the brief respite down south to let me know that maybe location wasn't the problem.

Mrs. Chicken said...

Me, too, friend. Me, too. Hoping you find what you are looking for.

Arizaphale said...

Do we ever 'find' what we're looking for? The best advice I ever had was that 'happiness is a journey, not a destination'. I still (at 48) look at all that is imperfect about my life....but in the end, it is my life, I've got myself here (with a few years of counselling) and of that much I'm proud. Hope you find some acceptance and peace.