It's not like it's just hitting me now--more that I'm not repressing the bitterness anymore and doing that finding-yourself and being honest with yourself thing, which is, by the way, so completely overrated you have no idea. I have never ever believed there was a *good* reason to be honest with yourself outside of mealtimes, because lying to yourself about liking liver? Not-fun masochism.
But I wanted it. And they're hiring for it in Houston, and I actually took an hour today to try to figure out if moving to Houston would be such a bad idea. You know, if I discount the sheer amount of *work* required to do it. And money. And time. And moving far, far away from my entire family, friends, and life, not to mention uprooting Child in a huge way. And finding an apartment, getting electricity, phone, and water, looking for schools for Child, as well as afterschool care--it boggles the mind. That doesn't even include furniture.
Visions of Child with his bedroom all fixed and me on the floor of my room with my computer and a cup of soup, no silverware...I mean, it's kind of romanticish. If I were insane. Really, really insane.
I could be Restless.
It hits every so often--I was non-stop like this through most of my teens, and nothing, I repeat, nothing, even crossing half the world for a semester, every really abated it. Even appeased it. Just this--frantic, weird need to *move* and *do*, and man, does this explain eighteen-to-twenty in a huge, huge way. It's not like it was then--it's easier to control and ignore, and I'm even considering the heresy of investing in real estate of my very, very own One Day Soon, but the kicker is, I never get around to actually looking, because the very concept of permanency just scares me to death.
So I'm a commitment-phobe. Well, isn't that a surprise. I can't even decide on a permanent haircolor, fragrance, or clothing style, so it's not like epiphany day in jennland or anything. I sometimes think I got *really* lucky in having Child when I did, because honest to God, I would probably have talked my way in circles about the Permanency of Motherhood and dithered my way past my biological clock with the way I overthink things.
Different thing from Routine. I *like* routine. Because in theory, I can end it whenever I want.
However, I decided today that this entire What am I becoming/am/have done? thing is waiting until my birthday, at which time I will invest in something well proofed and mixable, get quietly drunk on a worknight, and *then* make some life-changing decisions. So I have a month to ignore it and ignore it I shall. Aggressively.
But I wanted that job. And I *still* want it, and I'll want it two weeks from now and two months from now and I'll probably apply again and I'm not sure I can handle double rejection with anything like calm.