Why won't I just leave?
I remember the first time I decided I wanted to leave the country. I went to Thailand. When I was sitting on a beach playing jenga ocean-side with others in my diving group, I realized this was it. This was what I wanted in life. I wanted to sit with this kind of view every day. It was inspiring. I had never felt my heart so full in my meager existence.
My biggest obstacle was money. How would I survive? I needed to be able to fund myself at least a year without work, and that would need to include a place to stay, utilities, and things like food, water (tap water here wasn't drinkable), and any basic necessities. I did a bit of research and figured out that I could live comfortably for a year on 10,000USD. Of course my next reasonable step was to save that much, right?
It seemed easy enough. I cut out my food budget as it was the only place I had any wiggle room. I dropped from 300USD a month to 80USD a month. I can't say that I was eating incredibly healthy, but I was doing okay nutritionally. The issue then became.. I put away twice the amount I had originally planned.
So why am I not in Thailand, sitting on the beach and sipping mai tais? I have the issue of finding a place for my pets and transporting them with me. So now it became an excuse of the animals. I had to wonder though - was I just making excuses?
What would I claim to be the reason I couldn't go after my animals were gone? And why couldn't I move with my animals? Southeast Asia had some of the lowest import requirements in the world for animals. There were dogs all over the island I loved. I can't imagine there not being animal-friendly housing. So why won't I go?
Every night I dream about Koh Tao, Koufonissi, Dahab, and other ocean paradises I want to meet.
Somehow I became stuck in a rut. Working a job I once loved, but no longer enjoyed. I was only staying because of the money. I just wanted more and more to add to my new hoard of savings. It was all I cared about. The church that I once loved somehow became a source of anxiety, as did going anywhere with large groups of people present. I still go to the small gatherings with the young adults group, but even there I mentioned to the assistant reverend that I was struggling with anxiety. He offered numerous times to help me unpack that or talk about it. I wanted to take him up on it, but at the same time I didn't want to do so until I had a better grasp over what is going on in my mind.
When we finally tried to unpack it, it seemed like I was creating separation to avoid being hurt or missing others when I move. But that isn't the answer to solve that issue. It's an answer that hurts me more in the process.
I barely leave bed on weekends other than to care for animals. During the week the only functions I manage are work, animal care, and sleep. I am able to go to the smaller grocery store in town pretty well, but they don't always have the food I want. Everything else can be bought online and delivered to my door. Being a creature of habit makes these my normal functions now. Why wasn't I working on my book, on my various writing projects, on literally anything productive? Was I depressed?
It's obvious I need something to shake me out of this routine I've fallen into, but I'm unsure how to do it. Sometimes I force myself to go do things, but it's rare and I fall back into routine quickly after. With all of this on my mind, I decided to go home in May. I didn't tell many people at first because some part of me was afraid I'll go back on my word and try to stay and hoard more money. The issue is I can never fully devote myself to my writing if I don't take off to write. I have enough to support myself for that year in my hoard, but the thought of touching the hoard ruffles my scales. A dragon likes its hoard left alone.
I will be staying with my parents while I help them out with things, so there's no real bills other than my insurance, food, and pet costs. The thought of touching my hoard of money bothers me still though. Why was I suddenly in an unhealthy relationship with money?
I finally announced my move to ensure I couldn't change my mind. Everything pointed to me needing to leave the place I began healing in, because now it was a source of anxiety for me. Perhaps the answer is that I can't stay immobile in one place too long. Perhaps I am able to out run my anxiety but then when I stay in one place a while it catches up to me.
Or perhaps when we're full of discomfort it is a sign that we've outgrown our shell and it's time to find another home that fits. This summer I'm also heading to Montana to spend time with a friend who is going through some difficult things. I have to wonder how the universe twists our spiral.
Why do I feel like Montana has an answer I've been seeking the past few years? What secrets is it hiding? The only way to know is to go.