Posted March 26th, 2004 by Michelle

It’s been a long time, and perhaps even never, since I’ve had too much time with my good friends and needed some time for myself. I used to avoid spending time with people long before I got sick of them, saying “no” to plans far more often than saying “yes”.

Last night, my party of five went to Meadowood to see an Italian jazz saxophone quartet. I tell you, even the older fuddie-duddies were on their feet, screaming, “NOOOOOO!” when the four of them finally left the stage. It was one of the best things I’ve seen live, ever. All four guys were so musical, so funny, so utterly wonderful and charming, and my face hurt from smiling before it was through.

After the concert, we adjourned to a nearby martini bar and halfway through my first sip of Riesling, I hit a wall. Not just an exhaustion wall, but an overwhelmed wall. Too much information, too many people, too much noise, too much life, and I had to go home. I’ve been carrying my entire life, the weight and the questions and the urgency and the disquiet, as well as the camaraderie and fun and goodness, on my back, just above my shoulder blades, and it threatens to flatten me to the ground. One of my good friends is in the middle of a breakup, and I’ve been carrying her, too. And I’ve been carrying my desires, my lusts for a different life, as well. Molly and I have been talking about my job situation. I have one now, I interviewed for another yesterday, and a third is waiting on the horizon. We were also talking about living arrangements- should I wait for her to decide if she’s staying, and then the two of us get a place together? Do I move out on my own right now? Do I stay and save money and leave town for the summer? And Molly said, “What does your gut tell you?” And I said, “My gut tells me to go to Africa.”

Now that I’m not going, even my friends like to tell me what a bad choice it would have been. “Why would you go if it meant giving up the chance for love, for a great career, for a life here, and giving that up for two and a half years?” Molly asked. Some things aren’t worth defending. I’ve already been single for three years, longer than my Peace Corps service would have been. It’s been two and a half years since 9/11. Two and a half years is simply not that long of time. And I sure as hell don’t believe in sticking around someplace for the rare chance that I might “find love”. What a load of crap that is. But, you know, what the fuck ever. I’m not going and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

Anyhoodle. What all of this means is I need some time to myself. It’s a wonderful feeling, to have people you love constantly surrounding you, but I’ve been a hermit for years and I need that time away. Last night, driving home, I thought about the Taoist saying, “If you want to be given everything, give everything up”. I’ve been agonizing, holding on to myself so tightly, and I wish I could do that. I wish I could let go of the wanting and desiring and questioning and fighting. I wish I could fully know that I will find serenity in my own back yard just as quickly as I would find it far away from here. But I feel like my heart is breaking a little, breaking over me and what I feel my life should be. That is the want I want to give up. I just don’t know how.