Friday, October 21, 2011

Liminal


Happily serving Indian food from the floor because we didn't yet have a table, summer 2009


We're almost two weeks home and one month married. The other day I was making smalltalk with an auditor before a work meeting and she mentioned her hometown - same as Nick's. "Oh, my husband is from there," I said, and she didn't bat an eye.

It all feels a bit provisional still, like during childhood summers when you're asked what grade you're in and you round up to autumn.

I've become bored with my job but the notion of jumping over scores of network-y hurdles to get somewhere else exhausts me. We have a lot of exciting plans for the next few years (motorcycling through southeast Asia, foster parenting) but for the first time in my life, I sort of want to spin my wheels. I want to lean into potlucks with friends, riding bikes to the movies, sleeping late in our missile silo of a bedroom. I....don't want to get anything done? Most notably, I don't feel bad about it.

While I do love loafing, that has always existed as the fellow of that unconquerable former AP student's compulsion to achieve. Embarrassingly, my darkest times have often followed periods when I felt I failed in living up to some potential once assigned to me.

How tiring it was to always feel lesser, not quite complete. It's not that marriage itself has made me less viciously self-critical, but that I happened to get married around the time when I could finally give myself a break.

1 comment:

  1. Hell. Yes.

    After the wedding, producing a show, and losing my job, life was so quiet. The over-achiever in me sunk into a deep depression. A few months later, I couldn't be happier. There is so much more time for the little things-- the dinners at home, friends, hobbies (what?), making plans, reading books. I've come to the conclusion that this still time is incredibly important- even essential. I don't want to get so wrapped up in DOING that I forget to enjoy the details.

    Congrats on giving yourself a break.

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