Starbuck's Treat Receipts are back. I submitted my HUGE summer project to the designer this morning. I have someone who wants to come pick up my bed. I am thisclose to dancing in the streets. Seriously, I just wanna dance. Let loose. I want to let loose.
This past month everything has felt tight. Tight muscles, tight deadlines, tight budget. I've kept a tight grip on my every movement, my every thought.
I know - This is exciting stuff! Moving to a city I love! A city that already feels like home! A city with excitement! Starting a PhD program! Knowing precisely what I want to get out of it! Living close to family and friends again! Plans to visit northern New England in the fall! Dinner plans for the first few days I'm in the city! So exciting! All of it! And there's so much of it!
I am excited. Each morning on my walk into work, I burst into a spontaneous smile during my last few strides before the door. In the fall, I'll be walking the streets of NYC every single day. That thought, it spontaneously combusts into a wide, toothy grin I can't hide. A grin I don't want to hide.
There's more to it, though. Of course there is. Thank goodness, there is. More to it means I might actually be finally getting something right. I might actually be getting this right.
Of course, with every transition come the logistics. What to do with my bed. How to pack up more belongings than I need or want into some vehicle and drive them miles away. When these miles include northern New Jersey highways, it becomes even more nightmarish. There is first month's rent, last month's rent, security deposit. Idealistic attempts at assessing commute times, neighborhood safety, roommate compatibility. This transition includes backpack decisions, book purchases, first day of school jeans. Jeans? Annoying logistics, frustrating logistics, pain-in-the-ass logistics. Nothing I can't handle and haven't handled before. So what's with the tightness?
I want green morning smoothies next year. Yoga on a regular basis and the courage to try an adult gymnastics class. I want to see the city through a camera lens, drop into a space beyond words, beyond my mind's running analyses. I want uncontrollable laughter with friends I'm so comfortable with that I'm not even worried if laughter becomes wet pants. Snowflakes on my tongue in December, the head space to write regularly. I want to raise my hand in class and become the-one-who-talks as often as I am the-one-who-listens. Conferences, statistics, and theories - an authority who still knows the importance of questions. I want a neighborhood and a home. Wrap me up in comfort at the end of the day, release me rejuvenated each morning. Peace and quiet and color and energy. I want to fall asleep and know what he dreams. His hand still in mine.
I toy with the word forever. I'm ready now, I am.
The tightness comes from terror. Fear of failure. Thoughts of: I can't do this. "This" doesn't even exist. Idealistic, naive, immature - those words rattle so loudly. I keep a tight grip on every thought, every movement. The tighter the plan, the less room for failure. The tighter the expectations, the less room for disappointment. Efficient movement, efficient decisions, efficient life. Except, I'm making this move because I want more. So much more.
It's time now. To let loose. I did what I needed to do. It is time now to release. I'm giving myself permission to release. I'm ordering myself to release. To let loose. To dance in the streets and sing in the shower and cheer too loudly for the Olympic athletes and pack the rest of my stuff by throwing it into duffel bags (or into the trash) and buy fresh strawberries for smoothies and stay up too late and take the yoga class and sign up for adult gymnastics and talk too much in class and kiss the boy and burst into snorts of laughter over bottomless mimosas and spin with my arms out in the first snowfall.
It's time and I'm ready.
[quote by Danielle LaPorte]