That old melancholy feeling.

Tonight we booked one-way tickets to the US. In 5 weeks we'll be saying goodbye to New Zealand and starting anew somewhere in the States.

I know I should be ecstatic about it, but I'm not. All I feel is this deep sense of melancholy. We've been planning to leave NZ since before I even moved here, but now the plans are so permanent and I find myself asking "Why are we moving?". I know all the logical reasons why, I just can't seem to give a shit about them anymore. Who leaves a place that makes them happy for the unknown that could bring them misery? Apparently we do. What the fuck is up with that?

Okay, I'll admit it...I'm scared. Not just a little, I mean I am completely overwhelmed by this huge fear that is sitting squarely on my chest. I think it's having a lovely chat with the neurotic panic and paranoia currently circling 'round in my mind. The two of them are having quite the party with my sanity (what little I have).

I suppose the fact that I've been sick since New Year's with some "tummy bug" (as named by the urgent care doc I saw) that seems more like a tummy gila monster is not really helping the matter any. I haven't been able to take most of my medication so I'm feeling really grand at the moment if you catch my drift.

I have an ENTIRE FLAT FULL OF SHIT to sort, sell off, or pack and ship, but instead of doing that I'm sitting here with this "deer caught in the headlights" dazed look on my face, in between the bouts of hysterical tears.

I've been trying to find my happy place, but I think it's on vacation indefinitely. Probably sunning itself on the same tropical beach as my sanity. Bastards.

Lessons learned the hard way

I took this picture standing in the brush that stretched along the beach. What do you suppose was running through my head? "Wow, what an amazing view, I'm so lucky to be here soaking in this moment!" Mmmm...nope. Try more like "Hmmm, wonder how far off sunset is. We told the manager at the motel we'd be checking in soon, I bet we're still 30 minutes out, we've got to get on the road. I think there's a beach in Westport someone was raving about on that discussion board, I should go catch a sunset photo from there, it might be even better than this one!"

So we hopped in the car and set off for Westport. Me sitting in the passenger seat, agitated that we weren't there already, wondering what the other beach would look like, hoping the proprietors of the motel wouldn't be annoyed if we were a few minutes off schedule. Chris quietly trying to drive down the country road without hitting any stray cows. Oh yeah, and that tiny voice in the back of my head that was throwing a fit because we left the beach and were headed away from the sunset. It wanted to stay there, set up the tripod, and patiently wait for the sun to drop even with the horizon so it could capture the perfect sunset shot. But I had plans damn it, a travel checklist to adhere to, and a rumored great beach to get to before the sun set!

When we saw the clouds moving in over the mountains start to glow pink I knew in the pit of my stomach I'd made the wrong decision. I could feel that "oh you stupid idiot!" panic start to set in as my eyes scanned the roadside looking for any clue as to how far we had to go to reach Westport. 5 kilometers later we passed a little town called Carters Beach and a side road that I could see might have led out to the beach, but I didn't want to ask Chris to stop the car and turn around and risk that I might have been wrong. Glancing in the rear view mirror was painful, the sun was setting faster than I thought it would, clouds aflame in hot pink, deep orange drifting across the sky, it was stunning, and I kicked myself again. 10 kilometers more and we were in Westport. But wait, where was the beach? Down the center of town Chris drove, no beach in sight. We paused long enough to get our bearings and then headed in the direction of the water, hoping we'd hit the beach in time.

We never did find the "spectacular beach" of Westport. The road ended at a lighthouse type building with writing on the road reminding people to not stop and park their cars there. But there were 6-7 cars lining the road, stopped to watch the sunset. I grabbed the camera and took a picture in hopes of catching the hot pink color in the clouds while my eyes welled up with tears. To top it all off, the car decided it didn't want to start again, and we spent several minutes practically holding our breath, begging it to start. All I could think of is calling AA sitting in our rental car, stopped in a "no stopping" area at the tip of a tiny roadway stuck out in the water! Thankfully, it started after we gave it a few minutes, apparently it doesn't like to start right after you shut it off, so we had several "Please start, oh please, please, please start!" moments before we turned the thing back in.

Why did I leave that other beach? I have over a dozen photographs even better than the one I posted above (like my new header for example!), the rocks, the water, the foliage, the way it faced the setting sun, it was PERFECT. And I hopped in the car and sped away from it. Why? Because I wasn't in the moment. I was consumed with all the other things going on in my head, the perceived expectations of others waiting on me, the vague promise of a better beach elsewhere. Why didn't I stop when my gut told me to? Why didn't I ask Chris to turn around and go back? It would have been so easy, I'd have gotten the shot! Why? Because I felt like I had made a decision and so I needed to follow it through and stick with it.

I have a secret. Deep down within me I am an incredibly random and spontaneous person! I delight over simple things like the smoothness of a rock deposited on the beach by the ocean, the salty crispiness of perfectly done shoestring fries, the way a loved one's eyes twinkle when they laugh, packing an overnight bag and renting a hotel room in a town 2 hours away spur of the moment, just to enjoy a different bed, no internet, and a night with nothing else to do but get lost in Chris' arms. But there is something that keeps that person inside me tied up, pushed down, and gasping for air. Sometimes she rarely gets to see the light of day. I catch glimpses of her from time to time but for the most part the other "me" rules. The practical me. The one that tries to juggle it all, that makes plans, lists, appointments. The one that obsesses over the most minute details, who paces when we don't leave the house on time, that panics if it looks like we might be late for an appointment. The one that struggles with panic attacks when things seem to be spinning out of her control, the one who is so caught up in the past and the future that she fails to cherish the present.

I don't know how to let the me imprisoned inside me out in the same way I don't know how to make the other me CHILL OUT. But I know I've got to figure it all out because days are passing me by that I'm not living because I'm too busy caught up in the struggle between the two. And I'm tired of learning painful lessons the hard way because she makes me drown out the real me, the one that goes with her intuition, the one that whispers to me the right thing even as I turn away from her.

I learned a painful lesson that sunset day. It's never too late to turn around! We cannot let our fears of admitting we are wrong rule our lives so much that we "stay the course" all the while knowing within us we shouldn't. So the next time I'm in that car headed the wrong way I hope I have the guts to stop the car and turn around. Sometimes we drive away in search of the very thing that was there in front of us, we're just too blind to see it.

I ran away from home!

After reading my last post I realised I forgot the "life-wise" part! *snort*

Life is not bad. Busy, random, too slow and WAY too fast all at the same time. My life is good all things considered.

I did run away from home last week, which turned into one entertaining trip. Well, to be more specific Chris and I BOTH ran away from Auckland, in hopes of enjoying the sunshine that decided to grace us with it's presence after the 2 weeks of gray hell. I guess it had been on vacation too. *wink*

We left the computer/internet at home and went to Coromandel....and stayed in Coromandel Town. Now I really should have known from the name that it might be one of those "exists just for tourists" towns, but I read about the history of the town and so figured it wouldn't be too bad, right?

Wrong! Granted, we got a good deal at the place we stayed, but the town? Can I just say that $27 for a main dish at an average place anywhere in NZ outside of Auckland is absolutely ridiculous. Seriously, they should rethink their prices. How do "locals" afford to eat there? There were a few cafes with a bit better prices, but still pretty much Auckland prices... The grocery store was a little 4Square with prices higher than what I pay here, but I expected that as well. After having an interesting dinner at the fish and chips shop that charged a price I'd have never paid for a chicken burger had I any other food choice, we ended up picking up brown rice, broccoli, and a lentil dhal at the 4Square to cook in our room for dinner, kicked back on the bed, and enjoyed the movie channel. I think that was the first time we've watched TV in months.

When we set out for Coromandel Town we didn't know exactly what to expect having never been there, but we did know we wanted to make a day trip of Wednesday to see the other side of the peninsula. We arrived Tuesday night and came back to Auckland on Thursday, so that really only gave us the one day to explore, plus, rain was in the forecast for Thursday night and Friday, not the best driving/exploring conditions, so that helped to keep our trip really short. Unfortunately, when we wet out on Wednesday to follow the road through the mountains, we ran into a problem--a "Road Closed" sign to be exact! After a quick moment consulting the map we saw there was one more route to the other side, a bit longer than the first, but still not too bad. So we turned around and sought out the other road over the mountains. Just when we thought it would be smooth sailing we ran into a big construction crew that was stopping traffic because one side of the road was closed, so the other side (one lane mind you) had to be used for traffic in both directions (something I've noticed in NZ a lot). Seeing the long line of traffic waiting to be let through and not knowing how long the construction would last for, I looked at Chris and said "I think this is a sign we're meant to stay at the motel and chill for the day. There will be no going over the mountains!" And that's how we ended up in our room for the afternoon/evening.

In the end nothing went to plan, and I got annoyed, but then reminded myself that we were being spontaneous, plans often never go by the book, and that's okay, there's no one here to yell at me for it. Chris and I both help each other laugh it off. It's good. Living with Chris helps me feel less like I have to obsess and manage every little thing all the time. Old habits die hard, but they are dying, and I feel a little less weighed down by the day. I have to remember my "wabi-sabi" mantra!

But something tells me this is just a shadow of things to come if we plan a trip to the South Island. Not to mention Chris says the roads are even scarier down there, and I thought that driving on sea and mountain roads without a foot of road for a shoulder was scary enough!