Home > Uncategorized > How can I say no?

How can I say no?

I’ve always categorized myself with the dreamers; with those who are able to dream without limits and who wholeheartedly believe that anything is possible in a cynical and mean world.

Part of it is that I’ve tried to retain my childhood innocence and my imagination I used to have. I think the other part is that I’d rather not face reality. Thank you, but no. I like the inside of my head more.

But reality is brutal and inevitable and when it hits, it hits hard. Read on.

My move to Boston was a gift to myself.

I grew up in one town my entire life, and spent 2/3s of my college career in another town less than two hours away from home.

Needless to say there were very few opportunities for me to be faced with new people and new experiences. Mom and Dad, don’t get offended, but I often felt as though those towns gave me very little room to grow and be exactly who I wanted to be–especially if it went against the social norms.

In my junior high private Christian school I was told I had to wear certain clothes, not date boys and never dance. Because dancing is of the devil. (What?)

High school was similar. Although I found my little group of friends where I could be myself outside of school, within those hallways I was terrified of being myself. I was terrified of being teased the way I was in junior high.

And college. Oh, college. In a town that mirrored my hometown and had double the population, is it any wonder I needed a break?

So that’s what I did. I moved to Boston.

 I wanted to give myself a chance to grow, breathe, and re-learn things I thought I knew about myself.

And here’s what I learned. Here’s me. I can finally be 100% unapologetic for it.

I dream, even more so now. I’m all about the ultimate outcomes. I love hard and fall harder. When I love a job there’s no harder worker than me. (Remember those 60-hour work weeks?) I believe life is beautiful and I’m even more terrified of running out of time.

I learned that I love all people. I’m friends with a homeless man.

I’ve learned not to be so trusting, because the second you trust something, that’s when it all falls apart.

I’ve learned that I can be best friends with my very gay hair stylist. We chat and laugh and giggle about boys and life the whole time he’s doing my hair.

I’ve learned that I needed to get away from home in order to appreciate it more. I didn’t realize that until now.

I learned that I love to write. When the words are coming there’s nothing that can stop it. They’re a current that run through my veins, when I’m inspired, they flow quickly through me to the paper. Or rather, as this is the age of computers, they flow to the screen.

I learned that I have superior tendencies. I would like to believe that New England is way better than Texas. I used to believe that west Texas was a throwback to the old days and needed to get with it. I thought nothing was going on there. Now I know: it’s the beat and pulse of the people that make a place special and important. There’s life everywhere. It’s just a matter of finding it.

I learned that I value my alone time. I’m contradictory at it’s best. Given the choice I’ll almost always decide to hang out by myself. If I decide to hang out with you, you better be interesting because you’re keeping me from me. 😉

I also learned that what I love about cities isn’t just the opportunity lurking around every corner. It’s that people are alllowed to just be. No one, and I mean no one expects you to be anyone but yourself here. Part of it is that no one really gives a damn what you do, yes, but the other part is that everyone’s pretty much seen it all at this point. Nothing is too surprising for most people here. There’s no condemnation. It’s beautiful.

So now, four months in to my Boston experience, it appears it’s time to head back home to Texas.

My heart feels torn. On the one hand, I’m going home to a perfect job; a job that is a godsend in this economy. I’d be a spoiled brat if I even considered saying no to the job, which believe me, I’m not.

But my heart. I’m broken-hearted about leaving Boston. The Cinderella City. Beantown. It’s lonely and rough and I haven’t always enjoyed it, but oh, I love this city.

I’m sad because I start to think of the girl who started this blog: the small-town blues, big city dreams girl. I know I’ve changed since then. I wonder what she would say if she were sitting on this couch with me right now.

Would she berate me for being sensible and taking the safe job?

Or would she understand that really, I should be more than grateful for  this job?

I want to tell her…Boston is not going anywhere. You’ve done it once and you can do it again. You moved to a completely unfamiliar place, supported yourself and you had some fun.

You grew up.

But I keep beating myself up about this. There is a part of me that feels that I’m giving up on my big city dream. And that hurts more than anything.

I know that going to Texas is the right thing to do. I’m excited about taking this job because it’s exactly what I want to do with my life. But the adjustment back to Texas is going to be difficult.

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  1. May 7, 2010 at 10:46 pm

    I’m excited for you–good luck with everything. You’ve learned so much about yourself and that’s never a bad thing.

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