I like my little life and the world that I’ve created. I live in a rental home with a parking lot for a front yard. It has been my home for the last 15 years and it’s wear I mostly raised my daughter. I’ve made my nest with twigs and bits that don’t belong to me. It has served me well in these past years. There have been birthday celebrations, sleepovers, holiday gatherings, and all the things that most homes hold. I’ve painted the walls and moved the furniture around countless times. If there were an Olympics for furniture moving, I would not only be medaled in the events, I would surely hold a seat on some council that determines the conditions of the sport. Like a fish in a bowl, I would move around the little rocks within attempting to make it all so much more appealing. I could do it forever, but recently when I’ve looked around, my vision has become a bit clearer and I’m seeing it all for what it is and what it will never be.
I came to Westport, Connecticut because I was unhappy in my marriage, my father had recently passed away and the reality of being unhappy with someone just as he had been with my mother hit me in my face. So, I moved from Taiwan with my daughter, hoping that my husband would stay behind in Taiwan. He did for six months, but came to the states eventually where we tried to be happy for another two years, but failed. He left, I stayed and raised my daughter in a series of rental apartments and homes within the same four to five miles. I wanted to give her a level of continuity in life that I never had. I wanted her to have the same friends or at least a sense of friendships and connections that weren’t interrupted by moving around or at my own whim because I didn’t want to be here.
In so many ways, this town has been so good for me. I’ve had a life that I never could have imagined on so many levels. I successfully raised a daughter here on my own without family nearby to lend me a hand. I was able to do this because of choices that I made about work and life that were unconventional, yet allowed me the privilege of the lives we led. I started businesses and engaged in my creative pursuits and made them successes though they didn’t fully flourish. Yet, I shot my shot and that’s all that counts.
I write this on a Friday in November in the mid part of the morning. The house where I live is rather quiet, the dogs are sleeping as well as the cat. Around me are the possessions of a life in one place for too long. There’s too much stuff. Too many things to take care of and too much that is going to waste. The bedrooms other than my own are used by the pets or for when guests occcassionally come to stay. I have more than what I need and with each passing year, there is more that comes in. I possibly shouldn’t focus on these things, but I can’t really help myself. I don’t want to keep up this Groundhog’s Day existence where nothing changes from one day to the next. Of course I could make some changes in my current life where I’m at, but for the life of me, every time I try, I find myself still with this overwhelming sense that where I’m at isn’t for me. It’s a combination of the environment that won’t change, the same players on the stage, and the reality of being in a town where I will always be an “other.” Someone sitting on the outside looking at everyone else living their lives as if viewing it all on a TV without a remote I can control.
In this town of a little over 27,000 people, homes are mostly luxurious and money is something one either has or doesn’t. It isn’t a horrible place to live. There are beaches to visit, walks to be had with my dogs, and a handful of friends I’m sure I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. Yet, it doesn’t feel like the final place for me to rest my soul. I don’t want to rest my soul here because I’m not exactly ready to rest and that’s about all I can do here.
It’s time to go. I have moments when I go back and forth with my decision. I look at my couch and the collection of cameras that I have in various storage things around my house. There’s the comfy chair a friend gave me, the keyboard I bought myself when I decided I wanted to learn how to play the piano, and so many little items and big that I thought were so necessary for my life. Yet, I feel suffocated by it all. Every room and space holds the accumulation of hobbies, creative dreams, and clothes for a life that I don’t have that very often. There’s so much to give away, sell, or donate. It’ll take a lot of hard work and I’m excited to get it all done and through with.
I have moments where I wonder if I can stick it out and continue to be a cog in the wheel. I question if my daughter will feel lonely without me because I’ll be further away. I wonder if she’ll feel as if I’m abandoning her like her father did. I want her to feel loved and cared for, but is that enough reason to stay where I don’t want to be any longer when she’s not here.
I guess I’m just putting down all of this so I’ll have a written record of my thought process during this time in my life. It’s not the end of this life and I have so much more to see and do. The world is waiting for me to step back into it and I can’t wait to see what’s next.
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