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On Moving West…

On Mov­ing West…

You know, the real­ly fun­ny thing is, I some­how thought that we could make this change — I mean real­ly change prac­ti­cal­ly every­thing about our lives — and not have it be quite so dis­rup­tive. You laugh. Who wouldn’t?

I didn’t. I mean, who knew about all the things we’d leave behind in search of that “oth­er thing” we’d always dreamed of. And don’t get me wrong. I have absolute­ly no regrets. We are in con­trol now. Of our lives, and of our des­tinies. We do what we want to do and we live the way we want to live. We accept noth­ing and no one we don’t want to deal with, at least with­in rea­son, and we like our lives. We real­ly like our lives!

But I do miss the world we’d built, some­times. I miss the friend­ships, and the peo­ple, and the times, and the free­doms, and the places, and the mon­ey, and all the trap­pings that went along with the prison that we loved and hat­ed and fought so hard to be free of.

And then there’s Free­dom.

Free­dom to con­trol our own des­tinies. In truth, it is a will­ing­ness and a want. Because it’s not so much eas­i­er as it is more ful­fill­ing. We could have stayed where we were — mak­ing mon­ey — liv­ing high — but we might nev­er have known the free­dom of flight, or the flight to free­dom. Might nev­er have known what it felt like to shake the reigns free and say “fuck you” to every­thing else we’d known and built and poured our hearts and souls into for a thou­sand years, or at least as long as our fam­i­lies had lived in servi­tude to some­body else.

Free­dom. It means no one’s there to save you when you fuck up. No one to come through when you run short. No answers to the eter­nal ques­tion of back up.

But isn’t that what we want(ed)? Still do? Isn’t that worth it all? Because when the oth­er side meets us in the mid­dle and we are able to look around and see some­thing suc­cess­ful — some­thing WE made, and no one else did — then! Then, we are hap­py. Ful­filled. Free of any­thing and every­one, despite the days and weeks and years we lost when we changed.

Despite the friends we miss so des­per­ate­ly, and the pieces of our lives we loved so much.

Nobody can take away the pride I feel every time I look at the lives we’ve made for our­selves!

Nobody.

We’re two kids who came from noth­ing, with noth­ing, and hit the ground of adult­hood com­plete­ly unpre­pared. And yet, despite every odd (and end), we made lives we are proud of. Lives peo­ple might envy! Lives to be proud of!

We are chil­dren who failed, then learned. Who knew only igno­rance, fool­ish­ness, and fear.

But we grew beyond that. All of it! We made it past the fool­ish­ness and the embar­rass­ment, and the plain old dumb­ness that defined us. Not that we’re wise. (I wish!)

But we are bet­ter armed. Bet­ter informed. And more sure of who sits behind any­body else’s mask when we look in the mir­ror!