Last night I had one of my recurring dreams. The one where I have moved back into the house I used to live in as a kid. I was so sure, as I am every time I have the dream, that it was real. I kept saying, This time it has really happened. It has finally come true. Just like I knew it would.
Just like I knew it would.
I did go to the BlogHer09 conference. I actually wrote a post (but didn't publish it) over a week ago about all the crazy things that happened leading up to going away. I went. It was fabulous. I came back to the stress and the fallout. But it was all worth it.
And I have to ask myself, "Why?" Why did I go again when for so many reasons I shouldn't have? And why is it so wonderful, an experience I thoroughly enjoy?
I barely blog. I am constantly on double not-so-secret probation from the BlogHerAds people because I don't post often enough. My ads get turned off and I feel like a loser. Why haven't I just thrown in the towel?
I've said this many times before: writing does not come easily to me. And blogging can be overwhelming. I feel that I don't get back to people, I don't read all of their posts, I am a bad blogging citizen, blah, blah, blah.
And yet, I can't give it up.
In my dream last night, I am telling my father, who was visiting us in the new/old house, that I knew this was going to happen. That I had dreamed about it for years. And here I was, in that house again.
Just like I knew it would.
As the third child, I could sum up a lot of my issues from growing up as: wanting to be heard. To know something that my siblings didn't. To be right. Respected. Worthwhile.
I spend a ton of time agonizing over decisions, second guessing myself. I have wondered what I should be doing with myself. Should we live here, in my hometown? Should I get a job? Should we have another baby?
But when I go to the BlogHer conferences I feel like I am doing something right. Like I am where I belong. Even if I am not a very skilled writer. Even if I don't post enough or follow up. I know it is because I've always wanted to be part of a group of people who think about things as much as I do. Who are connected to others by their ideas and depth of understanding. Who value intelligence and wit, creativity and knowledge.
I feel like a better person when I among these people.
This dream I have is very similar each time I have it. But this time it ended differently. It was the most vivid it has ever been as far as feeling that it was real. I was so sure. So positive that this was the time it wasn't a dream.
As I wandered around the house, I had a sudden sinking feeling, instead of the normal smug, contented one that I was right and this had come to pass. I looked out the front windows and thought: I don't know anyone who lives here anymore. Who will my children play with? They will miss their neighbors. Who will I talk with? Why did I move here?
I've made a terrible mistake.
And I woke up. Dazed. Confused.
Relieved.
I was right where I wanted to be. In my own bed. In my own house. With my dog and my husband and my kids.
My life was the one I wanted. Not the dream of going back to the time when I felt secure and idealistic. I always wanted to feel like I had a sense of purpose and a place where I belonged. Where I could feel both comfortable and inspired. Important and fulfilled. My life has turned out to be all that I always dreamed and hoped it would be.
Just like I knew it would.
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