The other night I had wine. A lot of wine. Well, a lot for someone like me who hasn't drank in a while. And it didn't go well. Further proving that I just shouldn't "indulge" anymore. Not only is the recovery time a lot longer, but I also just let my emotions lead the way in everything I do or say. More on this later. So, it's safe to say that if I do drink again it'll probably be a glass from time to time. Though I'm leaning more and more towards doing away with it for good. However, one of the things that happened while I was guzzling down the glasses was a conversation with one of my best friends about how lucky she was to be living in California, and how I wanted to be back out there so badly. She said she had a room with our name on it, at anytime we felt the need to go back. I joked about selling everything I owned and driving out there as soon as possible. That night I went to bed thinking it was just the wine talking. That the morning would bring clarity, and my brain would think rationally again.
Only the morning came, and I still felt sad. I realized that I miss my home away from home a lot. And it's something that I hadn't really thought about in awhile, but only because I was so focused on my situation. School, Emery, my job, the separation, and more recently, making things work for my family. I kind of lost sight of a lot of things. Who I was, what I wanted, and some pretty big dreams over the years. I kept saying, well once I finish this I can move on to the next step. Once that's done I can finish school. Once that's paid off we can work on moving to a bigger house. Once that whole phase is finished we can look at starting to pursue passions again. But first this has to be done. EVERYTHING depended on something else. And sure you can say "Well, Raquel, that's just how life works." But does it? At what point did being accomplished, or happy require so many damn steps? And sure you can say, "Well, Raquel, you have a pretty decent life here why mess with a good thing?" But should that be all? At what point did settling become the normal thing to do for people like me? And by "like me" I mean of low income.
Right now, money is probably the only reason why I haven't done much. No vacations. No trips. My car is in need of major repairs and I have no way of getting them done. There's always a cluster of bills due each week that leave us with barely anything left which is utterly depressing. I'm in a good bit of debt, and though it could be much worse it's still enough to prevent us from getting anything on credit. And more often than not I feel like I'm never going to be able to breathe again. My anxiety kicks in, and I feel pretty fucking hopeless on most days. The crazy part is that I started to feel like this was my permanent. No matter what degree I finally got THIS town would be where I was born, where I lived, and eventually where I would die. Now, for some people that sounds fantastic! Kudos to you guys! And for awhile now I think I started to feel like this too. But once I actually said it out loud, well, it caused a panic attack. I started to feel trapped, and like everything around me felt uncomfortable. If I had had the money I would have drove to California right then and there without looking back.
So, that was a nice "shocking" experience. And I started to write things down. Reasons why I wanted to go back, and reasons why I didn't. I have many comforts here that I wouldn't have living anywhere else. My parents are close by, it's a small tight knit community, relatively safe with a low crime rate, and it's a decent place to raise a family. Small town life at it's finest, y'all! I finally just asked myself what the main reason was for me to stay here, and my answer: My parents. Not so surprisingly, it all came down to my family. The one I was born into, not the one I had help in creating. My mom and dad are the only emotional reasons why I live here. And even they (with the exception of my mother) have all moved off from the family they were born into. My dad even lives in a different country than the majority of his family. I ended up asking him about his decision to be so far away from everyone/thing he knew, and his response was that as long as he had us in his life he was always happy. So when I told him that I had California on my mind again, he told me "Hey, if that's your dream. You do it. Don't worry about us, we'll love you and support any decision you make. Just make sure you're doing this for you, and that you're capable of taking care of your family." When he said that I felt like I was being given permission to do something I hadn't even realized I wanted, or needed to do. And since then, I've been hoping. Planning. Researching. Because, y'all, California is on my mind. Again...
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