I’ll build a house inside of you

May 11th, 2008

Sunday nights I’m always contemplative. I think a lot of it comes from being on my own after a week of work insanity and a weekend of company. If I’m left to my own devices too long my head gets very active. And there’s a lot going on right now for it to think about.

I phoned my Ma tonight, for the obligatory Mothers Day call. I’d been trying to get her all afternoon but she can be a difficult woman to pin down. Her house is under siege by guests right now, but she managed to find some time to talk to me tonight. My conversation with her hammered home how much everything is changing. Particularly for her. What I realise more and more through life is your most of your days are made up of the people that you surround yourself with. I found out, necessarily, that I could live a good and worthy life on my own. I have since then realised I can life a joyful and magnificent life surrounded by people that I love. She is losing a great many people right now – geographically, mainly, but also emotionally. Mothers Day is still tough for her since Nan passed away, but Tara moved to Canberra in February, Hayley moved to Batemans Bay last week, and now Jodie is moving next week to Tasmania. She’s feeling the pull of time right now and tonight she sounded decidedly down about it.

Mental note to call the mother more than once this week and to find a time to go to Wagga.

There’s moving on my horizon too and I can’t even tell you how excited I am about it. Each and every time I’ve moved it’s changed my life dramatically, and this one will be no different. It IS different though, in other ways.

The first move, to Sydney, I did for someone else, and even though it didn’t end in happily ever after, it is part of the reason I’m here right now so I should be thankful for that. The second move was devastation personified, and it took me a really long time to get over. The third move was for completely wrong reasons – I was lost and scared and desperate to find and sink myself into anything that was familiar. I didn’t know myself or trust myself enough for anything else. The forth move was sad, and my hand was forced, and although I felt no less lost and scared, I knew it was for the best. The fifth move again, my hand was forced. Had it not been, I might still be living with Amanda in Wilberforce. Having said that, it did mark the start of something – it was a step toward living on my own, and I made the choice to forge a life for myself in that little flat up on the hill.

The sixth move, the most recent move, was a bold step into the unknown. It was me WANTING the change, and it was me knowing exactly WHAT I wanted, and that was the first time I had ever experienced that in my life and consequently acted on it. There was no reason for the move other then me wanting it. I wanted the extra space. I wanted a cat. I wanted my own yard and my own utilities and my own responsibility for my life. And that whole three months surrounding the move had this mammoth life force surrounding it – it was like when I signed the lease all the air started sucking from one end of my life and I was being dragged through a vacuum whether I liked it or not. And it was all wonderful, but it left me a bit breathless.

This move will be very different. I think I’ve finally hit on something – you can be one of two, and you can be part of a team, and yet you can still get what you want. You don’t have to compromise who you are or what you dream to share your life with someone. In fact, the joy comes from sharing it. If you can find someone who has the same heart that you do for the really important things, then a lot of stuff ceases to matter. Everything else will work itself out.

31 year old Karen wants to go back to 25 year old Karen and alternately smack her and hug the life out of her. I feel so bad for the person I was then, and I wish at the time I’d had someone like Hell or 31 year old me to wake me up a little. It took me a really long time to figure out what I wanted, and the revelation is to me that the second I did that, or realised that, my ducks seemed to fall into a row. I mean, it’s not all puppies and ponies from here until the end of the universe, I’m sure of it. But I feel like it’s all going to be okay.

Everything will work itself out. I feel like it’s all going to be okay. I read these sentences that I’ve written and there’s a little voice inside of me that goes WHOA. I think the girl is growing up at last.


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