I woke up this morning thinking about how I don’t really have any real reason to get out of bed. No job to go to, no friends to meet, and the kids can pretty much fend for themselves (prefer to, actually, because when Mom gets up and pays attention, she makes them do boring stuff like write and learn and do math). This is why I decided that today is the day I would start “the blog.” Maybe it’ll give me a reason to get out of bed. You might say, “But Melissa, you can write a blog in bed.” Indeed. But still, metaphorically, I need to get out of bed.
I’ve actually been thinking about writing this for a while, thinking about the title for a while, because so many things have happened lately to make me feel “unmoored.” I quit my job (not all the way, but enough to mean a significant change in my sense of professional self), took the kids out of school to become homeschoolers (what was I thinking?!), lost my sweet dog (she died), sold the one and only house we’ve ever owned in a neighborhood and city I love, and moved away from my friends and family (this last one is so much of a heartache that I can’t make its phrasing pretty or interesting). I left the water of Lake Michigan behind, where my ship has been moored for the great majority of my life, to come to this strange place in the desert, where the water, I’m convinced, literally makes me sick.
There’s a heady sense of freedom that comes when you leave behind what you are moored to and “head West” where the only things to moor yourself to seem about as substantial as a tumbleweed. But since I’ve never been particularly interested in seeking out adventure or being an explorer on a quest for “freedom”–mostly, I’ve always wanted to stay home–this heady sense of freedom just makes me feel dizzy. And, let’s face it, sad.
Hence, the not feeling very much like getting out of bed. At least there, if I’m feeling dizzy, I have a soft place to land when I fall.