Great name for a blog post right?
I'm not really, but there are days.
My kids had to go see their sperm donors. We live in Washington, they live in Kansas. Let me tell you summer in Kansas is... special. This week it has been well over 100, with the exception of today, with a thunderstorm last night, today dropped to 97. With 100% humidity. Yup. That's right. The great plains rainforest without the trees and cool plant life and animals.
I miss home.
I was ready to go back 2 days after being here. Don't get me wrong, I love me family and friends and enjoy visiting those I left behind. But this is no longer home. It hasn't been home since about 4 months after our move to the great Pacific Northwest.
I spent my entire life in Kansas City. I grew up in Gladstone and Parkville and spent my adult life moving from place to place, from Raymore, MO to stuck up southern Overland Park, KS. Up until about my mid 20's I think I was okay here. Then I realized I liked to travel and explore new places and this was no longer fulfilling my heart.
Of course, there is a long, drawn out sob story of bad relationships and poor choices. Who doesn't have one these days in some capacity? I am no exception other than I chose to rise above it, starting around the age of 30 when everything came crashing around my ears.
3 years later, with a college degree in my pocket and plans to work toward another, I left my childhood home.
I fell in love with the northwest the first time I laid eyes on it, 3 years ago, at my sisters wedding. There was little time to explore but I knew it was where I wanted to be. I had spent years on anti-depressants to feel normal and happy. I forgot them during that trip. I didn't need to take them.
That was my clue.
A second trip a year later provided more in depth discovery of the Portland area. When I came home, I fell into a deep depression, spending weeks locked in my room away from everyone.
That's when I started writing the book.
Sure, part of it is that mind numbing fear that we may never get to see it again. You see, we are here not only for the kids visitation, but for a custody battle with my daughter's father. If I lose, which I won't, but if I do, we will have to come back.
And that scares me the most.
Now that I have found the place I am meant to be, that sings to my heart and whispers to my soul, the place that feel RIGHT, the place that is home, that it will be taken away from me.
But the other part is missing HOME. My kitties, my friends, my cute little house, my tiny little vibrant garden. The freedom, the clean air, the vibe.
Home is not what necessarily the people in our lives, or what we make it. Out soul picks the place. The rest falls into place after that.
And the point of this rant...our soul knows the right song of where we are meant to be, all you have to do is listen.
I'm not really, but there are days.
My kids had to go see their sperm donors. We live in Washington, they live in Kansas. Let me tell you summer in Kansas is... special. This week it has been well over 100, with the exception of today, with a thunderstorm last night, today dropped to 97. With 100% humidity. Yup. That's right. The great plains rainforest without the trees and cool plant life and animals.
I miss home.
I was ready to go back 2 days after being here. Don't get me wrong, I love me family and friends and enjoy visiting those I left behind. But this is no longer home. It hasn't been home since about 4 months after our move to the great Pacific Northwest.
I spent my entire life in Kansas City. I grew up in Gladstone and Parkville and spent my adult life moving from place to place, from Raymore, MO to stuck up southern Overland Park, KS. Up until about my mid 20's I think I was okay here. Then I realized I liked to travel and explore new places and this was no longer fulfilling my heart.
Of course, there is a long, drawn out sob story of bad relationships and poor choices. Who doesn't have one these days in some capacity? I am no exception other than I chose to rise above it, starting around the age of 30 when everything came crashing around my ears.
3 years later, with a college degree in my pocket and plans to work toward another, I left my childhood home.
I fell in love with the northwest the first time I laid eyes on it, 3 years ago, at my sisters wedding. There was little time to explore but I knew it was where I wanted to be. I had spent years on anti-depressants to feel normal and happy. I forgot them during that trip. I didn't need to take them.
That was my clue.
A second trip a year later provided more in depth discovery of the Portland area. When I came home, I fell into a deep depression, spending weeks locked in my room away from everyone.
That's when I started writing the book.
Sure, part of it is that mind numbing fear that we may never get to see it again. You see, we are here not only for the kids visitation, but for a custody battle with my daughter's father. If I lose, which I won't, but if I do, we will have to come back.
And that scares me the most.
Now that I have found the place I am meant to be, that sings to my heart and whispers to my soul, the place that feel RIGHT, the place that is home, that it will be taken away from me.
But the other part is missing HOME. My kitties, my friends, my cute little house, my tiny little vibrant garden. The freedom, the clean air, the vibe.
Home is not what necessarily the people in our lives, or what we make it. Out soul picks the place. The rest falls into place after that.
And the point of this rant...our soul knows the right song of where we are meant to be, all you have to do is listen.
