bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary



Yesterday I was talking to my husband about how unhealthy my family has gotten. We were discussing the changes that have occurred over the last five years and, in passing, I mentioned that we should move.

This has been something I've been bringing up roughly every six months since his first year in Iowa was complete. It's not that I don't like it here, because I really, really do. The living is cheap, the education is cheap, the opportunities are fairly plentiful and the reputation we have from outsiders is that we are very hardworking people (okay, okay, people often think that we're all Amish or living in some seriously undeveloped part of the world, too...but, whatever). It's just that, I feel more than ever like I need to put some distance between myself and my family before I allow myself to be taken in by the sickness. Also, I have been thinking a lot about how much I really do want to have children someday....and there's no way I will send them to the school that I went to. If it even exists.

The community we live in is dying. The school system nearest to us is projected to close in the next five years, the cost of water and electricity is one of the highest in the state (because there are not enough people paying into the system to maintain it, let alone upgrade it) and the most recent census showed a decrease of over 20% since 2010.

I suppose it goes even further than that, though. I moved to Nebraska for a couple of months when I was eighteen. Then I tried to kill myself and drop out of college. Since then, the furthest I've lived from the home I grew up in has been 7 miles. I used to be ashamed of this, and I don't feel that way anymore. Now I just feel entirely sure that I don't fit here, and I never really have. I feel like I need adventure, a new start.... Devon got all of that when he moved here, and he was swept away in the romance of empty roads and cheap houses and a small, friendly community.

Don't get me wrong, I love all of those things, it's just that....this can't be all that there is for me. There has to be more.

So, when Devon and I were talking my wish to escape, and he actually agreed with me, my heart almost stopped.

While the actualities of moving are mind boggling and incredibly scary, the biggest hurdle to getting the fuck out of here has been my husband. I mean, the man is hard to argue with because his most compelling point is simply, "We own our home and we don't have to pay a mortgage." And that's huge. Especially considering the instability that my husband came from. His father lost their childhood home when he was 18, prompting him to move in with a friend's parents who ended up losing their home just a few months after he moved to Iowa. Despite the fact that I tend to be the one who figures things out (bills, budgets, purchasing cars and homes and shopping for insurance policies and, you know, just making sure our world keeps spinning), Devon has a real sense of what it's like outside of the small town. And I think that's why I never pushed the issue too hard.

My husband is nothing but encouraging, but he tends to know his limits in a way that is absolute and he cannot be pushed past them.

Hearing him say, even in passing--even in hypotheticals--that it might be time to move on has inspired an awakening in me. A sense of awe that I may finally get to see some of the big things out there that I always felt were waiting for me.

I have no real plans yet. Not even the beginning of a timeline or even an idea of where to start, but it's finally out there. It's finally got a hint of actuality.

It's still too far away to think about, but it's a possibility. A real, amazing possibility.

Now if I can just find a second job, kill myself over the last few months of winter, and start to accumulate the finances to look into things a bit more seriously.

8:44 a.m. - 01.05.15


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