I Feel Weird

I feel floaty. Like, I don’t know quite what the thing is that I’m doing right now.

It's probably what a jellyfish feels like, but I don't have the poisonous tentacles. That means you don't have to pee on yourself if I touch you. You're welcome.

The past two years I was a school teacher, a marathon runner, a mom, and a writer. Those roles filled up my person completely and I quite nearly overflowed. I had to squeeze in time for all of the big roles, as well as take time to take care of myself with lots of counseling, and driving two hours for counseling, and figuring out my medicine for depression. Time consuming. Exhausting. And focused. I was overflowing with purpose. The blisters were concrete evidence.

This past school year I knew would be one of big changes. My husband’s job at Cabelas in Sidney, NE was going to change, so I didn’t sign a contract to teach. I thought we would move to Springfield, MO for quite some time. I was going to be neighbors to the Simpsons and meet Lisa. Hidey Ho Neighbor!  Opportunities shifted and we moved to San Antonio, TX. Ian is working as an accountant for corporate PetCo. Our pets are living the life! 

My Cross-fit, Bible study, and running group- Sidney, NE.

The past part of this school year was me doing a few jobs here and there to have something to do outside of home. My town was small and to do things, I worked. I cake decorated at Safeway. I substitute taught. I worked the lunch hour at Dairy Queen with friends. I was a speech coach, which job I loved so entirely. The students in Potter-Dix Nebraska have my heart. I love them so. Then, I packed up my house. That was a big, boring, cardboard box kind of job. Then I moved to San Antonio, Texas.

My girl Amanda Panda, who I miss daily, and Scout. 

 Now, I am sitting in a lull. I am home with my preschooler, and I take care of him. We have a few adventures, but he goes to school so soon. That is where the weird feeling comes in. The part of me that doesn’t know quite what goal I am going to shoot for lives in the weirdness. What physical mountain am I going to tackle? Am I going to try triathlons? Am I going to train for a marathon? Am I going to focus on strength training? I don’t know yet. The “thing” hasn’t arrived. And my children are in that stage where I can let them do things on their own. I don’t have to keep them from choking on small items, and button their buttons, and tie their shoes. They can gloriously do many day to day things on their own with some direction. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they are also children who don’t know anything, but you get what I’m saying. I’m not wiping baby bums all the live-long day.

And work. I like working. I have a small teaching gig I am pursuing for next year but is it time for me to further the education and get the Phd that sits in shadows in the back of my mind so I can teach in college, or triumphantly tackle the book that I have agents waiting for (I mean, clearly the answer is yes), or write a nonfiction memoir about surviving deep depression that tells my story to date. I mean, there are so many words to write, I need to focus them somewhere. The words. They need to get out. And get pretty. And get published.

Then there is the social circle I have yet to build. I have friends. I wave to them virtually. (waves at you). I love you guys and talk to you and we stay in touch. But I need the ones who live right here. They are the physical presence of people who I do things with. I need women and men who challenge me and support me. I need meaningful presences of passion. They will come. We always find each other. But those friendships take time, and there is no rushing it. And so I feel weird, in the waiting, and building, and trying, and fumbling of it all. Humanity is so squishy.

THE GOOD STUFF: I love the sunshine. There has only been one cloudy day since I’ve moved here, and it was for a good rainy reason. The air is full of life and possibility, and I’m not battling the wind around. I found many things to do outside that are part of my daily routine, and I’m happy with these.

Shopping. I know. It is a bit shallow. But I love it. I love that I can go to Target and purchase a dress for my daughter. I love that I have sandals season and DSW is there. Costco, people! COSTCO! (I eat so much pizza). I love that I don’t feel rushed to purchase something because I am in Cheyenne Wyoming today and I don’t know when I will be back and I have to find something. I can pass. Or purchase. It is so gloriously wonderful.

In summation: things are weird and good and sunny. I am in a liminal space, which would make John Bennion so happy because he taught me that word and these spaces aren’t usually so obvious and extended. But, I’ve been in them before. So I know they will end, and they are gifts. They are times to think, and be deliberate, and take focus so that when I do decide on my targets of passion, I enjoy the journey.

Me and the boy at The Alamo. (No basement).