My in-laws left today. They stayed with us for a week. I could write about the overall experience of having your in-laws stay with you for a week, but the big takeaway would be this:
Every family is different and has their own unique way of existing while in each other’s company. As the outsider, you adapt accordingly (or at least try to) and appreciate that the physical proximity is temporary.
Actually, this is true for any visitor we’ve had since moving to Austin. Guests are a temporary stress on our living environment, but they help us stay connected to the life we knew for thirty plus years – a life I’m not willing to discard because I live approximately 1,900 miles away.
So while I was admittedly relieved to settle back into “normal” life when they headed on their way, after I washed the sheets and towels and organized the apartment a bit, the emptiness settled in.
As I sat down to my computer to catch up on emails, I felt kind of like Colin Firth’s character in Love Actually when he shows up at his cottage, sits down at the typewriter, and comments to himself, “Alone, again.”
It’s in moments like the one above when I feel the enormity of this country. Everything – everyone – I know seems so far away. With that weight, trying to create a complete life here seems daunting.
And when I’m feeling daunted by the prospect of creating a complete life here, I default to thinking, “Well, if I stayed in New York things would be different. I would be happier.” But I don’t know that. It’s super easy to assume I would be happier, or feel more fulfilled, under different circumstances, but that’s bullshit because there were plenty of times in New York when I was unhappy…and I wanted to move.
Besides, moving back to NYC isn’t the solution. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the convenience. But I don’t miss the day-to-day. And I don’t miss being comfortable because it was evolving into laziness and complacency (and I’m way too young for that). So when I’m feeling alone and untethered here, I miss an ideal version of my life in New York that I know in my heart never existed, and I was too comfortable to try to create.
But necessity is the mother of all invention and maybe I’m finally at a point where I’m uncomfortable enough with my current state to not be deterred by the weight of trying to build the life I want – the life I need – to be happy here. Maybe I’m ready to finish mourning the life and future I had (or like to tell myself I had), that I willingly walked away from, to fully focus on building what’s next. Maybe…