Other Peoples 6/7/23

I have been here for 13 years. I never thought I would be. Time slips away, and suddenly, I'm 50. I have my daughter and have been fully promoted at work--both amazing things, but I always thought I would have settled down by now. I wonder if that will happen, my feelings haven't changed, but I'm living my life. When I see the situation that others are in, I feel a little relief that I don't have to bear the burden of supporting a child and a husband--and the abuse some folks endure. A friend gave me the 411 about a colleague at work, and it's awful.

Fortunately, I've escaped the whole drama of divorce so far, but I may need a divorce from my job. Things are getting pretty bad where I am. Changing jobs would be painful, and I will lose a lot--perhaps a really nice grant. However, the prospect of seeing other peoples (a change in my area of research), better healthcare, more money, and frankly, more sanity, is so promising. Trying to get Boop sorted is my #1 priority, and she is ambivalent about a potential move. She would be leaving behind her best friend, and I hate the thought of that. However, I love that she has the capacity to care so much about her friends and has formed such strong bonds. I, too, will be leaving behind friends, but this isn't my first rodeo. This is the longest time I've lived in one place since I left home. I'm fortunate to have friends sprinkled around the States and even the world. 

Derby Day "Photoshoot"

Although changing my life has its appeal, the thought of having to move everything is painful. I have so much stuff that I have been holding on to. I have so much guilt about getting rid of things. I am sentimental. Each little trinket is laden with so many memories, and it's a little way of carrying people with me, even though they may not be here. 

I just went to our family reunion with my cousins on my dad's side. I hadn't been since before the 2016 election, and I have really missed them. There were so few of us this time that I got to spend more time talking with them. Going to see the old family cemetery back in the Appalachian countryside, going down our little lane, was so grounding. Crazy stories abounded about how my Paw-Paw, with lots of help from my dad, was a bit of a Robinhood in his own way. I may have to retire before I can get back more permanently, but I need to make time and space to do more with them. As my cousin said, 'It's up to us, now.' We look, and the generations above us are nearly all gone. If anyone tells the family stories, it has to be us.