Sun and Corn


Taking some advice from my therapist about all the time I spend with my husband, she claims we spend an abnormal amount of time together for a married couple, as in every single minute of the day when I am not at school and he’s not at work, while not necessarily bad in and of itself, just that we don’t do anything other than sit in a 10 by 12 room with each other. So, may have taken my therapist’s advice too literally, and am currently on a six day trip not with Brian. 
So today s day one on my vacation from my life.  I’m kind of viewing it that way.  Running from my life fixes none of its problems and is a totally unhealthy way to deal.  Yes, I know. I just don’t care. It’s either this crazy spontaneous trip across the country or go a little more crazy each day until I finally jump off the deep end into full on crazy. SO here’s to me, getting out of my comfort zone, finally standing up to my husband, doing something without a plan, and shedding a little bit of my personal armor.



I have no delusions that I will “find myself” among the corn in the Midwest. I do hope to find peace of mind, and a little perspective on my sheltered life.
This is the furthest I’ve been from home since I was a child.  It’s daunting and a little surreal.
I left home at 2pm today, and I am already halfway across the country, well to me. Home being West Virginia and halfway across the country being Missouri. 
We traveled a lot when I was a child, and now as an adult, I am amazed at how small this country is. As an adult, traveling anywhere seems a daunting task, one I want to hold onto and experience fully.  I am amazed that with a tank of gas, and a cooler full of snacks and pop how easy it is to be away. 
Traveling down the interstate in the dead of night, after chasing the sunset for an hour more as we moved west, I am presented with my own thoughts and reflections. That’s what this trip is about mostly. 

That sunset though, no different than any other Wednesday sunset to the drowsy residents of western Illinois, seemed to stretch on forever. The sky so large, the sun a brilliant orange, playing with the clouds, caressing the edges with its heavenly glory. Being from the mountains, seeing so much sky, so much flat earth. The endless expanse of cornfields, seeing columbines raising dust off into the distance. I see it in a different light than the residents. I can see all the potential and all the hopes that many who have traveled west have had. Maybe it’ll be better here. Maybe we can go just a little further.  The orange sun, so far away, making promises that if you come a little closer, it will help you bare our soul.  Out here, in the middle of nowhere, is truly in the middle of nowhere, not like the middle of nowhere of home, safely comforted by the hills and trees, sheltering you from the outside world... Here you’re open, nothing is untouched but the sun. Secrets have no place here. Here is freedom. Here is where America come from, our ideologies. The simpleness of living, with the expectations of a better day.

So, freeing and all at once I am missing my husband.  I won’t be able to instantly fall asleep next to his sweltering heat. I won’t have the comfort of our dog cuddled between us. Tonight will be the first night of our eight year marriage that I have not shared a bed with my husband.

Doing things are scary, sleeping alone is scary. I’m outside of my element. Even without my cuddly security blanket, I am at peace. My skin feels like my own. I am comfortable. I want to feel guilty about that, I want to feel guilty that I am nor pining for him. The little voice in my head is saying, “You should have stayed home” and I am squashing it deep down, drowning it, hoping that with enough willpower and glorious corn, I will beat the creature that is a codependent mess. 

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