I’m going to try to explain my itch to move out of the house where I’ve lived for 25 years.
10 years ago I would not have viewed uprootedness as preferable to rootedness. But 10 years ago I was a partnered version of myself, which was a me with a fundamentally different set of comforts and discomforts, assumptions, and wishes. And self-image. Apologies for bringing notions as navel-gazy as self-image into things, but it’s hard to avoid. As a partnered person I was happy to embrace “the old homestead.” As a not-partnered person (terms perhaps best understood by AD spouses...yes, I realize I’m still married,) I am not so happy with the same house forever thing.
There is an effect caused by becoming an AD spouse unusually early which I feel in spades. That is (and I know I’ve mentioned it before,) a sensation that you’ve been fast-forwarded past a part of your life which "should" be rather rich and fulfilling into the life of an 80 year old person. Again, no offense intended toward 80 year olds who should, in my estimate, be striving for rich and fulfilling lives, but I sure expected a different character to my 40s than I got, and staying...now and forever...in the old homestead makes me think this: It makes me feel like all the elderly widowed ladies who have ever lived on our streets, staying as fixtures in their old homes until they disappeared. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, ok? It’s a psychological problem for me though, see. I feel like I’m entering the golden years disappearing act before even turning 50.
Part #2. I don’t like maintenance. It scares me. I don’t like the idea of maintenance. That unsettles me even more. I would like to plant about 4 or 5 shrubs in a little back garden that the cat could sit in. (Ok...how is this different from moldering in place here? Good question. Maybe it’s not. But uprooting myself shows, for a minute, that I’m still alive.)
Part #3. I might, for all we know, be caregiving for decades to come. Well, probably not more than 2, but you cannot make assumptions about these things, and it is not useful to play “when and if” games, so you might as well structure your life in a way that attempts to provide serotonin-stimulation to your brain.
I realize that everything I’m talking about is a “way of looking at things,” and that, in theory, it is sometimes better to change an attitude than to make a physical change. I do not disagree. But physical changes can be fine too.
Oh, wait...I'm not quite done yet. I expect an objection along the lines of how extraordinary my house is, and how much personalization and hand-crafted work it contains. This is true. But, to imply that these features should somehow require me to stay here actually has the effect of making me feel more stuck than I would if there were no such compelling ties. Yes, it's wonderful and lovely. But that doesn't mean I have to keep it forever.
3 comments:
Emily, I could read you all day long (okay, I admit it, one day I did).
I think what you are dealing with is the desire for a different life. You may be thinking by moving you will be gaining a new lease on life. You can run but you can not hide. I understand the concept that less is more, the less things you have to deal with the more you have to build up reserve for the next task. How would Jeff deal with the move? Would the added confusion just add more to your plate? You need to do what ever will make your life better and less stressful.
Yep. That is all true, and something I fully acknowledge. It is partly my nature—I spent my college years fleeing (3 different undergrad schools,) thinking/hoping that I'd "find my life."
Jeff has been the most grounding partner, and I have discovered that in the absence of his influence I am...surprise...just as crazy as I was as a kid! (not because he tried to influence or guide or be overbearing in any way. I'm just speaking of the way in which the presence of his personality complemented and enhanced my ability to be calm in the world.)
The only gift of maturity seems to be that NOW I recognize the urge to flee for what it is. It means I am unsettled, not that fleeing is necessarily appropriate.
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