—Well, I’ll be heading back to Nashville on Saturday. I’d planned on starting back tomorrow, thinking the promo shoot for the film was on Saturday…yeah, it’s Sunday. My brain’s all muddled, I swear. It’s all good though. Gives me an extra day with the fam and the kiddos and a chance to fit in some quality time with the Bestie. We did manage to get together one night over the weekend for a couple of hours, which was good. Although I still can’t shake that feeling that our friendship has changed in recent years…it’s still nice to get together and catch up a bit. I keep telling her that she needs to just pack up and move on down to Nashville…in jest mostly. Part of me thinks that it could be really great if she actually did it. I do miss her and the close friendship we once had…I do. But at the same time, I can’t help but think that maybe this whole distance thing is sort of good thing. And by that I just mean that it’s been a good thing for me. It really has. My moving to Nashville was a huge step for me. And it’s given me new insight and a fresh outlook on my future and what I want to achieve. And the confidence boost it’s given me has been huge and incredible. To explain…I never thought I’d actually do it. That I’d move so far away from everything and everyone. I honestly never thought I’d have the nerve to do it. And by some chance that I did muster up the nerve, I never would have imagined that I’d actually see it through. I’d have thought I’d have cashed in my chips by now and gone running back. But I didn’t. And I don’t have the slightest inclination of ever doing that. I’m not sure if I should feel bad or guilty for saying it, but Nashville is home to me now. Which is a little crazy in and of itself, considering I’ve literally only been there a mere six months. But I know how I feel. And that’s it.
—As unreal as it seems, I feel like I’ve done a lot of growing up. That I’ve changed. And I have. It’s kind of hard not to when you relocate to a new city in a whole other state by yourself. I mean, before I always had my family there to back me up when things went to hell. It’s not like that now. Sure, my family is still there for me–I know that and I love them for it–but in reality, it’s just me for the big things. The important things. Like having a career and paying the bills…it’s all on me now. Though the stack of responsibilities I now have sometimes seems overwhelming…it’s also a sign of how far I’ve come…how much I’ve grown up. Granted, the majority of the time being an adult just SUCKS…there is this sense of freedom that’s kinda great. I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself. I don’t have to defend my actions or the things I do. I can tell my family as much or as little about my life as I choose…and they will never be the wiser. It’s kind of perfect actually. Terrifying to some degree, but mostly just awesome.
—I think my family has finally come to terms this trip with the fact that I have no intentions of moving back. I think they’re finally starting to get that…and while they still aren’t too happy about it, I think they’re beginning to accept it. They seem more supportive…for the most part…which feels pretty great, to be honest. I think all I’ve ever wanted from them was their support…their encouragement. For them to believe in me…even if they don’t necessarily understand why I do what I do or want what I want. My mother called me a gypsy the other day and said that I’ve got this free spirit-personality that she’s both in awe and admiration of. She also said that it scares the hell out of her sometimes…the fact that I’ll throw caution to the wind and take all these risks, never knowing in advance where I’ll land up or if I’ll land up right. I know my moving hasn’t been easy for her. Granted, we haven’t had the greatest or closest mother/daughter relationship over the years. According to my father, she and I used to be so close when I was little…and I wish I could remember more of that, but I don’t. All I remember is the relationship getting progressively worse while I was growing up. I remember her leaving…her putting the men in her life before my siblings and I…her not being there for those milestones that a mother should be there for with her daughter. I’m not sure when, but I think at some point all the hurt I felt towards her just meshed into anger–which eventually just became so drowned out by resentment that there was no room for those hurt feelings or even the anger. I think I stopped calling her Mom before I was even a teenager–that’s how long it’s been. And a lot of people will stay say to me when they hear me call her by her name–rather than Mom–how wrong and disrespectful it is…but it’s not that simple. They weren’t there. She didn’t leave them behind. They don’t know what it’s like to be 5 years old and watch the taillights backing out of the driveway from your bedroom window each and every night. They don’t know what it’s like to look into the audience at an awards ceremony or in the stands at a home game and realize that yet again, she didn’t show up. Or to spend the majority of your childhood and adolescence feeling like a burden, feeling like you weren’t wanted. I love my mother, I do. And I’m grateful for the fact that we’ve begun to mend some fences in recent years…but that doesn’t excuse or erase all the hard stuff. I feel the same way about my Dad. I’m glad we have a relationship now, but nothing can make up for the fact that he wasn’t around while I was growing up and that that relationship didn’t start until I was practically already 16-years-old.
—As for the gypsy part–I’ve got to admit she’s probably right. I’ve had these crazy, big dreams since I was little of wanting to see all these different places, of wanting to travel the world. Granted, I now realize it’s not as easy to do those things as I once thought it would be–financially especially–but those dreams haven’t changed. And it’s not about being ungrateful or hating where I come from. It’s just this restlessness that I’ve had in me for as long as I can remember…that I sometimes think I must have been born with. I don’t know why I have it…or why I’m the only one in my family that seems to have [apparently] inherited this gypsy DNA…but I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. They might not understand it or relate, but it’s not for them to understand. It’s my life. They don’t have to understand it, or agree with the risks I take…they just have to respect it. And ideally–accept that I’m not like that. For some reason or another, I’m never going to be like them. It’s just not in me to stay in one place for too long. Not that I have any intentions of taking off from Nashville and running off somewhere or anything. Trust me, I don’t. For now, I’m content and happy right where I am in Nashville. I don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon. That said, I still think it’s pretty damn awesome that I can–that I have that right and that freedom–if I so choose.
—In getting back to the Bestie though–even if I wasn’t kidding about wanting her to move down to Tennessee–it’d never happen. She’d never do it. She and the boyfriend are practically married already. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they make it official. And I highly doubt she would ever convince him to leave the area, what with him being as close to his family here as he is. Not to offend his wanting to be where his family is–it’s perfectly understandable–or anything to do with the guy just in general…but I sometimes can’t help but to think that, in a way, he’s holding her back. The Bestie and I–believe me, she’d be the first to tell you that I probably know her better than most anyone else…and I would probably have to agree. Which isn’t all that surprising considering we’ve been best friends for well over a decade. We’ve been a crazy duo, dating all the way back to our high school days. We were practically cut from the same cloth, so to speak. We bonded over our extreme hatred for our ridiculous Chemistry teacher and our ultimate mission of doing absolutely every darn thing we could think of to annoy the hell out of him and make those every-other-day, 80 minute class periods as difficult for him as we possibly could. (It sounds horrible, but trust me, that teacher was a jerk and he totally deserved it!) Aside from harassing teachers, we saw each other through everything–good and bad. An unplanned pregnancy and the abortion that followed, the heart aches from bad break-ups, the degrees of dysfunction within our respective families, the death of a grandparent…we saw and experienced it all. As Christina Yang (**From Greys’) would say…she was — and in some ways still is– my person. We know each other’s secrets. We know how to put each other’s buttons just enough to send the other off the wall. We’ve had some pretty insane fights over the years…it’s a wonder that we’re still even friends. But we are. At least, I’d like to think that we are. It’s hard though, building a life that you can’t really share with that person because they live 900 something miles away from you. Growing apart…I guess it was just inevitable. After all, it’s a helluva lot easier to be joined at the hip when you’re young and free and have no real awareness of what “responsibility” looks like or even means. We were kids then. Now–well, now we’re stuck in the big, bad real world. We can’t afford to be oblivious and reckless in our ways when our futures are dependent upon the actions we take and the choices we make…
—Any who, time to call it a night. I have a feeling the next couple of days I’m going to need all the rest/energy I can get. Excited to leave and get back to my life in TN…but that damn drive though…ugh…
‘Til next time,