When finding yourself requires a passport…

I often journal and last year when I traveled to London, I did just that.  Below is the first entry in my journal recording my trip, the first I had taken in four years…

October 31st, 2012:  9:50pm EST


I awoke this morning with a mix of excitement and dread.  Excited about the trip that would begin today, and dreading the actual traveling.  Leaving Jack, leaving my young business, leaving my house and all my things and the comfort they provided me…  I actually thought, many times, about cancelling the trip.

In the past, I would have done just that.  Convinced myself that I had too much work to do at home.  That I couldn’t be so far away from Jack.  That I couldn’t afford it.  And while all of that is true, here I sit, in the International Terminal of Atlanta’s airport.

I was hoping for a sit down meal to linger over, because I had to be here so early, but the only food is food court style.  So, I had a crab cake and jalapeno and pepper jack grits and a sweet tea and observed the passing travelers.

I don’t usually wonder where people are traveling to or from, as most people do.  No, I am most often wondering if they are traveling on business, or for a vacation.  And I wonder if they left a family at home.  And I wonder if they miss the ones they left at home.

That is certainly due to my history of being the one left at home so often, and wondering, from my own house, whether LK was missing me or what he was doing while on the road…

But this trip is for me!  I haven’t had a real (international or plane required) trip in four years.  No, I’ve been at home, pregnant, or nursing a sick child, or raising a relatively healthy child, or nursing a broken heart, or staging my comeback, most recently.

So I really, truly hope, that this trip can be the start of a new chapter in my life.  A happier, brighter chapter, full of optimism, hope and opportunities.  A “reboot” of sorts.  People always tell me I have earned happiness, and that I deserve happiness, and I believe that for other people.  But for myself?  Not an easy entitlement to take on.

Happiness has, for so long, looked to me like marriage and a family.  But now I am, surprisingly, looking forward to a trip to London without a significant other.  I’m pretty sure that’s called growth.

And if I get home happier, rejuvenated and engaged in life again, well maybe someone will find me.  And if not, I will be all those wonderful things for me and for Jack.


My next journal entry finds me freaking the hell out, having left Jack and barreling over the Atlantic Ocean, farther and farther away from what I know and love…  Check back soon!



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