I chose a word to represent what I wanted to do this year. This is only the second year that I have done this, having thrown resolutions by the side of the road long ago. A word, though, that is something I can refer back to, to see if big changes (or small) are keeping me going in the manner I laid out with my word. This year’s word was “moving.”
For me, this word means moving forward, keeping up momentum from last year, and hopefully, moving house. It also means moving my body, an area I have been rather underfunded in this past couple of years. But mostly, it means to not get stalled, to not get into that holding pattern that is so alarmingly easy when you have small children. Even more easy when you homeschool them.
Keeping moving for me means facing a lot of fear, and a lot of doubt about myself and my ability. It means confronting the idea that I deserve something, or that I am good enough for…well, anything. It means overcoming the urge to sit still. I didn’t choose the word lightly, I know what a challenge it is going to be to keep moving this year. The downhill slide of last year had a lot of momentum, but I have found myself running into the wall of fear and doubt quite a lot recently.
When I bring up moving, especially among people who know about my current house, folks get excited. They offer insight and opinions and helpfully look for houses online. They tell me about realtors, and lenders and what their brother’s cousin’s wife’s sister did to get out from under their mortgage. They talk to me about renting this place out and how easy that would be. Or they tell me I should just find someplace to rent for us. I think that real estate might offer up only slightly fewer opinions that being pregnant.
And I listen. And I explain our situation. And I feel like I am that person who just says “No, I can’t!” over and over again.
But, as I have thought about the idea of moving (in all its facets) recently, I realized that a lot of people aren’t moving in a planned manner, but fleeing. And I realize that a lot of my moves have also been fleeing. Running like hell to get to the next thing, and landing where I end up – not always where I wanted to be.
I want to move out of this house. I want to live somewhere quiet, with a yard, and with no attached walls. But I am also realizing that I need to move, not flee. Fleeing was how we landed here, moving out of our rental a month before Bee was born, and trying desperately to find a house. And in that dwindling time before the baby made her appearance, we felt pressure to make a move whether we were ready or not. Fleeing to find shelter before we needed it.
I think that a lot of life’s decisions are made in just this manner. Fleeing before some oncoming thing, rather than planning out the steps. I get it. I have done it more times than I can count, and probably a few I don’t think about. This year though, I want to move, in a directed fashion, in a planned manner. I don’t want to flee.
It is very easy in this time and place to find a quick way to do something. It is easy, now more than ever, to flee – and to keep doing it until something catches up. It is harder to wait when you want a change, to watch and weigh options, to hold out even when you hate it. But I think that it will be worth it in the end to move forward one small step at a time, walking, not running.