Welcome to the Fall Out

I have written three separate posts telling the story of how Stacy and I came to move our little family to Houston, a move we made in early August. The thing is, that story is not really interesting! Yes, the move meant huge, dramatic changes--we sold our house, we left friends and family in Tyler who we love and who we depend on for our (well, my) sense of security, and I left a job that I was okay at doing--and all of these changes happened quickly. In a way, that story should be told. I should certainly try to explain how that sort of thing happens.

But all of that is eclipsed, for me, by things as they are, now.

I am not writing to whine. I knew before we ever committed to move that moving would make for some strange changes. I knew that my people would be three-and-a-half hours away, but I have friends I love who live thousands of miles from Texas, and I have little idea of what their everyday lives are like, and the love persists. To me, that permanent bedrock of love is beautiful, and I fully expect that my dear ones will remain close.

One of the effects of this move that I (wrongly) thought I was prepared for is being unemployed. I honestly thought that I would be snatched up quick by the "job that I was meant to do," or that I would be able to use my time without a job to finally do some of the things I have always meant to do, like regular exercise, more reading, more meditation. I imagined finding a place/group of people where I would be challenged and examined and valued. But the thing is, relationships and jobs are not thrown together quickly, if they are really valuable! I know this is true, and I know that the time I am getting to spend with Anna and with Mia (after school) is amazing and valuable! My dad never got to literally be THE MAN who took care of Donna, Suzy and me when we were little, and I get tons of time to play and cuddle and feed and walk with my girls (I don't always want the responsibility, but that's another blog post).

I mentally know this is good time. I am not a guy who thinks his total worth comes from some job. Still, deep inside, I feel isolated and useless, like I need to apologize to strangers for taking up space--I am not contributing. I feel vulnerable, I feel unattractive as strangers walk past without a glance, and I feel sidelined from most of the people I love. As I said, I am fully aware that I am the one who moved away, so please don't take this as me resenting my friends and family in Tyler--in fact, the distance gives me time to think pretty full about everyone.

There are a lot of positives, too. I am closer to Stacy, to Mia and Anna, and to Kelly; they are all I have in my everyday life, so I should be closer to them. We have also been able to join Kelly at Ecclesia at a time when they are making tons of big changes, and that is good to be part of, even if from the fringes. I have been able to exercise at this great YMCA each day, and Anna gets great childcare there, and there is Yoga (though I have not made it to any classes, yet). And, I have had one interview for a job at a beautiful downtown Books-A-Million, though it looks like Anna's childcare might cost nearly as much as I would make--it is still good to be considered, and to meet some of the employees.

But, I don't want to pretend that I am in some kind of great place. I want to remain open to this new vulnerability, and to come to feel the truths that I believe, that my value is not determined by who I can serve or be valued by, or by some job. I want to cultivate the internal qualities that I value, already. I'm thinking of this time as time in the desert--a comfortable desert very near the Galleria, but a time to purge. 

I hope I can become as courageous as Rick has been with his internal searching. I will likely goof off a lot, but maybe good things will come to shine from this time apart.