“I’ll never find my way back
I’ll never find my way back home.”

Writing always helps me clear my head and arrive at conclusions I might not have otherwise. Then it makes sense that I should have written about this decision long ago… Like, probably before I made it.

I went to the ocean looking for answers. But that’s just it… the ocean doesn’t answer to anyone except maybe the moon. I have to figure out what will be my moon. What will be my calling.

I am torn between an obligation to my mom and the life I want for myself, including a career in a city I love. I was never meant to leave Massachusetts and live in cow town like this. Or was I? I’ve been home to see two of my friends get married, reconnect with other friends, vote in this year’s election as a resident of Bucks County, and of course… spend time with my mom.

At the same time… I’m employed at a (dis)organization where I’m not even making enough money to make ends meet. I’ve had to push desperately to spend time with my mom. I’m watching one of my closest friends dealing (or not dealing) with alcoholism. I didn’t get to say good bye to my dog. My feelings never had a place in this town.

I remember the way the skyline made me feel. The smell of the T. The way the lakes sparkled at dusk when I was happy and exhausted from a long swim. I miss my friends and my job and my support group and my roommates and Chris. I can’t even bring myself to change my license plates or update my location on Facebook.

I could stick it out for a year here… work in an inner city school or do therapy at a community mental health center and risk shooting my career in the foot. What would I say a year from now if a neuropsychology position became available? Why had I clearly accepted these positions that were not consistent with my career goals and clinical skills?

To say good bye again to my mom would be difficult…I hate myself for hoping she forgets who I am soon. Hell, even saying good bye to my dad would be tough. And Reynolds… I would miss Uncle Reynolds. I think the world of him.

I want to be like the ocean and answer to no one. But there are too many anchors.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s