This has not been the most mentally fit weeks of my life, internet. It has taken all my nerve and practicality not to hop a train out of here for a few days and just recollect myself. I kinda joked/ kinda seriously begged AH to take a sick day today, knowing it was futile - he has never, ever taken a sick day the whole time I've known him. I strongly believe in "personal days" myself, because my mental health is just as important to me. But I'm not a dyed in the wool Yankee Puritan work ethic born in the USA person I guess. You know how you can feel your personal batteries going flat? Life is not all that inspiring? Even coming up with a dinner menu is Too Much Effort? You've spent more time on the computer than you would like to/should have and now you've got that sick feeling, like when you eat out 5 days in a row and just want a home cooked meal? But attacking something tangible also seems insurmountable? Yeah, maybe it's just me.

AH and I spent a long time on the porch the other night, drinking a cold beer on our white wicker loveseat and talking about inspiration. I am pretty self-sufficient and can generate a lot of interest and excitement internally - I thought. I hadn't realised how much I needed to be In It - to be surrounded by things that jump start me. To set off for a walk and see what I can see. To pop into institutions, whether they be beautiful libraries or quiet art museums or movie theatres. To window shop. To watch people go by or gather or get on and off buses or bicycle by. To drop into a thrift store and spend hours combing the shelves. To stop at a coffee shop with my notebook and just doodle for awhile. Neighborhoods! That feeling of exploring your own city by hitting a different neighborhood. Oh my god I miss neighborhoods. And it's not like I need a completely urban setting - but my nature is lakes and rivers and ocean views and mountains and god - landmarks. What I wouldn't give for a landmark right now. Forest can be inspiring but this is endless, featureless forest, no destination, no reason, no change...
We get mad at ourselves a lot. For not having accomplished more creatively since moving here. (I will grant myself a small break for grad school and having the baby but still - there is time leftover or how do you watch The Comeback in two straight days anyway?) A place with nothing should make you want to fill it up. Our friend Nick argued that we had to bring what we wanted here and I agree, I agree - but when you feel your batteries going flat, it is hard. We talk about how we would change this house if we really owned it and for the million billionth time discuss buying it. Planting the lavender out front. Screening in the left side of the porch. Painting the underside of our porch sky blue. But we wait and hover and sort of inhabit here and I wonder if I would feel just the same in another place. And when you watch the lightening bugs flicker in your own big backyard and the cardinals land on your feeder, it seems silly to dream about dirty sidewalks and crowded subways. But I am, I am.
One of the only things restraining me from jumping said train to Somewhere is money. We have made a pledge to use credit no more and with one income, this means not much extra and certainly not hotel rooms extra. My thrifty side is constantly at war with "My God we only have one life, can't we please get on a plane right now??" side. I hate feeling regrets pile up and they are, they are, even if it's for the good cause of Financial Wellness.
Also, this plan to go somewhere doesn't take into account how the baby would fit into such a trip. She wouldn't, not really. I need a chance to collect my thoughts, they are scraps and dithers and shoulds and routines. AH has already semi-accepted that I will apply for some exchange programs next year and is supportive of me trying to go for a few months. I have always sworn I will keep doing what I want to do, and the baby will come along for the ride. But then I read an article like this one about the on-going feud and weird blame stuff between Rebecca Walker and her Mom, Alice Walker and how she hates her Mom because she was out doing for herself and not staying at home with her kid. I read R. Walker's book incidentally, and found her to be flaky, inconsistent, maddening, over-dramatic, entitled and not my cup of tea, so I'm naturally inclined to be on the Elder Walker's side. But also, I want to still be selfish and I'm afraid my kid will grow up wondering why I didn't turn the entire focus of my life to her. And all I will be able to say is I would have gone mentally insane if that's all I had to focus on, if this week is any indication.
Don't even get me started on all the musings on being a Woman that I've been sunk into lately and how that label keeps slipping out of my grasp.