I love your plate-spinning metaphor. Reminds me of a Radiohead song...I'll come back to it.
For now, I have to focus on the strange tension between wanting to be left alone and not wanting to be alone at all. I can't really expound on being happy flying solo, because (though I found plenty to do with my time that I don't do so much now) I wasn't happy on my own from the day I understood that each person is supposed to have somebody. Even in first grade I pined over some boy or other. It's acculturation. Occasionally over the years I've hit points where I felt content on my own and proud of what I did with my time, but always I returned to a place where I felt bitter toward people yet ultimately wanted to be a part of the successful heterosexual partnered group. I never could help myself, and I recognized that as a weakness of sorts.
Back to the spinning plates. My parents were supposed to come visit this weekend, but, due to weather, have canceled the camping trip whose return route would lead them directly past Blacksburg. It's rescheduled for two weeks from Sunday, when my friend Laura has planned for me to go visit her in Atlanta. Part of me looks on this rescheduling as a blessing, because it's one more reason for me not to go see my friend.
I'll explain. In August, she and I tried to plan a time that we could see each other. Fall break seemed like a good time, so I said all right, if I have enough money. The thing is, I don't have enough money. And my tires are balding. And a week ago my car wouldn't start, opening my eyes to the catastrophe that breaking down on the road would be. And, because of Jeremiah, I'm suddenly more concerned about my own mortality. And I don't like talking to Laura much anymore... Yet, in spite of several good reasons to not embark on a 6 1/2 hour drive to Atlanta, I can't bring myself to tell Laura I'm just not going. The dynamic of our relationship has always been "do what Laura wants." Which was fine, since I'm a generally passive and eager-to-please kind of person.
So I feel guilty that I don't want to go on this trip, because it will put me further into a debt I've finally started to repay, because my vehicle is aging quickly, because I honestly can't afford to spend the time away from my desk. I feel guilty that part of me is glad my parents rescheduled for the 12th. I feel guilty that I've changed so much that when Laura talks about how one of her goals is to be making six figures in X years I feel disdainful, which isn't fair...
All of this reminds me of a letter my mom wrote to me when I was six to be delivered when I turned 17 (we lost it; she found it again this year). In it, she tells the story of a day when she was cleaning the house. I'd asked a few times recently to take a walk on the trail in the neighborhood park, but she kept saying "later." Then, she said, while watching me play quietly on my own as she cleaned, she realized she had her priorities all wrong. She asked if I'd like to go for a walk, and, she says, my eyes lit up. We walked, and she listened and enjoyed my six year-old's excitement as I chattered about everything I saw along the way. Her advice, based on this and my continual deference to my brother's wishes, was to not be afraid to do what I want now and then. It's good to want to make other people happy and to go along with their plans, but sometimes it's also good to have your own or to say no to an idea that you don't like that much.
It's the best letter I've gotten and reveals a tendency we have in our family to not want to inconvenience anybody, to the extent that we'll be visiting in the same town and not call to say hi, because we worry we'll just bother or interrupt (my brother, aunt Brenda, and Uncle Michael were all in Blacksburg a few weeks ago...I found out halfway through the weekend in which they visited...never got a call. My response: to also not call and risk bothering them).
So, right now, Laura is the plate that is slipping. I think, however, that it may be okay to let that one fall this time. I want to see my parents; I haven't for more than an hour or so in months. Seeing her that weekend would also mean not seeing them until...Thanksgiving?
I hope you're doing well. Life seems to get stressful this time of year.
Love,
Kate
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