Why We Will Probably Never Settle Down

So while I don't often post here anymore (because Instagram, honestly), this one is too long for IG.

When the husband made the decision to leave his former company (for ethical reasons) and landed another job outside of Chicago (which was easy-- but the options were tricky because they all had their own appeals), we were elated. All of my close friends know just how damaging that place feels for me. For us.

For those who are stumbling upon this or who may be starting their own grief journey and somehow found your way here... we spent about 7 years in Chicago, living and loving life until our firstborn unexpectedly died of stillbirth just as he was making his way into the world. The whole town, greater Chicago area, state, region... feels like a dark black cloud of heartache and heartbreak. We were only there 9 months before he died. We endured another 6 years after. And I know you can't just run away-- move away--  from your pain, but in some ways, that did heal us a bit.

Whenever I meet someone and I'm asked about where I am really from, I always explain the whole story about moving around and kind of liking the transient lifestyle. I'm from Los Angeles, but the world is vast and we genuinely enjoy the adventure.

I suppose we're true millennials (albeit, old) because we have this sense of contentment with wherever we land our feet. We aren't strapped to our things. In fact, I just cleared out 4 more bags of junk this weekend. I'd clear more, but my kids start to get defensive and confused about my actions. When we moved from Chicago, we went from almost 3,700 square feet to about 1,800 square feet. It all fit. We pared down. We donated and sold nearly half of our belongings. There's so much irony there because while we were living our perfect dream of a large home and awaiting the birth of our first child, we were FILLING spaces after moving from our small duplex apartment in Redondo Beach, CA that we lived in as newlyweds.

And there we were with all    /    the     /     space.

The space was so large that it was suffocating after Andrew died. I wanted it all to disappear. The weekly house projects were neverending. It almost felt like a punishment. We know it's ordinary to have house projects, but we hated them. We saw them as a liability. At times, they were helpful to distract, but those almost seemed to scar us as well. We're the perfectionist types and like things done well. It was impossible. We were never measuring up.

When we sold that house and moved into a rental, it was a renewal we didn't realize would be so powerful. Much of that was because we were physically leaving behind the physical space where we grieved so deeply, but also because we released ourselves from ownership and being owned by a home and space. We were free. In Reno, we LOVED our rental because it was quaint, new(ish) and we didn't have to repair anything. In Arizona, we're renting again, loving the luxury of a gardener and pool maintenance person. We, again, feel stress-free about living here. It's odd living in a rental with the means to buy a house in our neighborhood just fine (and no intention to ever do so), but that's only because of the judgments we have developed as a society. We had all of the "American dream" until we didn't. It turns out the American dream wasn't really for us, especially if that dream means owning the same home and being strapped down to a geographical location for too long. Plus, it's not financially responsible to buy and sell houses often. It's just not a good investment for the most part.

My co-worker just took a job in Northern California. We hadn't even lived here a year when he announced his move, but I'll admit, I felt a tinge of jealousy for the adventure that awaits him. I don't even want to live in Sacramento! We're content now, but we just love the adventure of change.

Our date nights always involve our dreaming of the future and where we'll explore next. We predict one more move in our future before our kids are out into the open world of college and beyond. After, we plan to live the condo life in a high rise in a cool mountain town somewhere. It's such a foreign concept, we understand, but it's working wonders for our mental health. Adventures are fresh. New. Happy.

Sign me up for that, please.

I'm not sure.

I've been absent here for almost a year and 99% of that was due to getting back into the workforce -- in full force -- and managing a Kindergartner with homework. I always knew that's what would happen, but good gracious, I've been busy.

I sit on my couch right now with my sweatshirt on as the air conditioning blasts so I can cool the house before the 3pm shutoff (because 3-8pm is peak cost and we have figured out the mystery to avoiding $500 air conditioning bills when it's 110 outside, which is, obviously, not to use the air conditioning during peak hours). Alexa tells me it's only at 99 right now, but climbing. Of course, that leaves me freezing right now. Irony.

The kids are at summer camp and I'm all caught up on posting for Faces of Loss, which doesn't get nearly as many submissions anymore. Is it on the decline because people who lose children aren't blogging anymore? Have they switched over to Instagram, Instagram+Stories or that thing all the cool kids are doing, SnapChat? They have to be connecting somewhere with their tribes.

I dropped my kids off at this megachurch for VBS last week and because it was so far north in the cactus boondocks, I decided to just park it at a Starbucks and crank out the Arizona Constitution class I was required to take to fully clear my credential here. I'm becoming quite adept at these state constitution courses. When I finished the course, I ordered the transcript (yes, those still exist in paper form) and began my goal of reading four books this summer. I set the goal low because I'm also running about 263 committees and such this coming school year and I wanted to actually achieve.

I just finished The Girl Who Smiled Beads by Clemantine Wamariya and was captivated. It's a memoir of a young girl who was a refugee in Africa for seven years after her parents sent her away to escape the war in her home country of Rwanda. She eventually attends Yale and establishes herself in the US. Considering the connection to our current turmoil in America about the refugee crisis of families and their children being separated, I was really invested. I highly recommend this one. (And by the way, this family separation issue is morally inhumane and awful. I just received word about the president signing an executive order to end this, but I'm not fully convinced-- I'm not sure any of us can really trust that the wrongs can fully be made right, but here's to hoping for the families and those children).

I'm also totally invested in the Amazon Prime series "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" and obviously I'm not the only one, because my husband binge-watched and stayed up until 3am one night watching all of the episodes. The Golden Globe to the main character, Rachel Brosnahan, for best actress and the other Golden Globe for best TV series was also an indicator of just how awesome it is. I love these feminist timepiece shows (which is saying a lot, because I rarely watch television and we might be the only household in America to own only one).

I have about one hour to make today count while the kids are in camps (though I consider this post and my 40 minutes of spin this morning to be pretty productive), so off I go. I'll try to make this a regular thing, at least for the summer.

Random side note: We're packing for our Peru trip next month. If you have any recommendations on a good backpacking item, send my way!