One of these days and it wont be long, Youll look for me but, baby, Ill be gone. If everything goes according to plan, sometime next spring or summer, well be getting the hell out of Dodge - err, Pennsylvania. Were planning to sell our house and use that money to pay off the remainder of our debts. Then, were either going to purchase a camper/bus and travel for a bit or, if finances dictate it, were going to purchase a small house with a lot of land in a cheap area. This is our plan. Why are we doing this? First, some background... Eight years ago, we bought our current home. At the time, we had two children: Science Kid, then two, and Earth Mother, who was an infant. We bought a HUGE house. We knew we wanted a large family (we now have five kids) so we bought the biggest house we could afford. And its a whopper. Its a two-story house with a finished basement. Counting the basement, its over four thousand square feet of livable space. Plus a two-car garage. Plus a sunroom. A front and back porch. Four bathrooms. On over an acre of land. Its beautiful here. Our home sits on a little ridge and we have an amazing view of the sky and mountains. This was going to be our last house. We said wed never move again. This would be the home our children grew-up in. Were leaving. What are we, nuts? You decide. I dont think so. It will be so hard to leave. Weve made three babies in this house. Weve buried countless pets in our back yard. Weve endured family tragedies here. We have wonderful neighbors who mind their own business. Weve made great friends in this area. All of our immediate family live nearby, including our childrens grandparents. I cant even fathom how heartbreaking it will be to sell this house and move on. But, were leaving. Ive been at my job for twenty-two years. I make really great money, enough to afford us a comfortable lifestyle. Were not rich; we still pinch our pennies. But were doing fine, well enough that my wife has always been home with the children. We have a nice healthcare plan. I have five weeks of vacation each year, plus another two weeks of sick and personal days. If I stay at my job for another thirteen years, Ill be able to retire with a decent pension. Many of you reading this would say, Id kill for that. Youre walking away? Yup. Were leaving. Maybe you want to tell me how ungrateful I am. Maybe you want to smack me upside the head. Maybe you want to say, you have everything - a wife who adores you, beautiful babies, a wonderful home, a stable job, a basement stocked with food and water, security for your old age. Why, youre living the American Dream! And we are. We even have, I kid you not, a white picket fence. But, were leaving. Were selling this place and moving on. Of course, youre wondering - why? See, we *thought* this is what we wanted. We *thought* this would make us happy. We *thought* wed be fulfilled. Were not. This American Dream you speak of is not as it appears. Every day I trudge off to work. I hate it. If it was just me hating it, truthfully, Id probably just suck it up and keep at it. But its not. My wife, Mama Bear, hates it, too. The kids hate it. Im gone more than Im here. To pay for the big house. To pay for the toys and entertainment. To maintain this lifestyle. Five days a week, Im gone for twelve or thirteen hours a day. We look forward to the weekends; we look forward to holidays and vacations. We look forward to any time when were ALL together. But those times are rare and fleeting. When Monday morning rolls around, the house is noticeably subdued. A hush falls upon the manor. Mama is depressed. The children are grumpy and irritable. Im frequently sick, with either an upset stomach or a migraine. No music is playing; no one is laughing; no one is happy. Because Dads leaving again. This *was* our dream, but its no longer our dream. We want to be together - all of us, all the time. This is what will make our family happy. Not more toys. Not the big house. Not the view. Not the lifestyle. Not the money. Not the pool or the trampoline. Not any of those things. My wife and my children, bless their hearts, want ME. Weve discussed this extensively. The older children know full-well what theyll be giving up. And theyre unbelievably thrilled! Theyre ready to go today. They want adventure. They want something new. But most of all, they want their father with them. They want me - a happy me - not a me whos beaten down and exhausted from a twelve hour work day. I wonder if they truly grasp what were considering. Do they really understand that the money will be gone? That we wont be returning to this house ever again, the only home theyve ever known? Do they really get it? I think they do. We havent come to this decision lightly. Many dozens of hours have been spent discussing what me quitting my job would mean. And theyre all for it. Im the worrier. Im the practical one. Im the killjoy and the party-pooper. Im the one with a million reasons why we *cant* do something. Im the one whos been holding us back, because they were ready long before I was. And Im still not sure Im ready. Perhaps Im chickenshit. In many ways, I would rather maintain our safe life rather than engage the crazy. But I cant hold them back. I cant fight them any longer. I can no longer procrastinate. We need to do this. Our dreams are not here; I dont know where they are, but theyre not tied to this house and this job and these things. Our dreams are out there, somewhere, waiting to be found, waiting to materialize, waiting to manifest. We can go seek those dreams or we can remain here. We can be safe or we can be free. We could stay here and do the prudent thing. But at what cost? That my childrens memories of me are that their father was scared to follow his dreams? That he spent everyday doing something he hated? That he sacrificed his health and well-being for safety? That he was miserable and depressed most every single day? That he was too scared to go out and live a little? That, when they had the chance to do something special, something amazing, that their dad was too timid? None of us want this American Dream anymore. Were going to leave and find our place. Were going to be together, doing things we love everyday, not biding our time until the weekend appears. I think I can make money writing. Sure, lots of people think that and lots of them fail. Maybe I will, too. Maybe well have to settle in a place were not happy with and Ill have to take another job, one paying far less and offering fewer benefits. Maybe that will happen. Maybe no one will pay a penny for my thoughts. But, damn it, Ill never know unless I try. You might say, well, just stay where you are and write. Write in your spare time until you can get a steady stream of income and then quit your job. Friends, if it were only so easy. Sure, I can write a Facebook post now and then. I could try to squeeze out a book (and I am trying), but the time just isnt there. I cant produce enough content, good content, content that people will pay for, because I dont have enough time. I need to be able to write full-time. I need to devote many hours to this, not just a few minutes here and there while the kids are distracted. And even if I did spend all of my free time writing, what sort of life is that? Already, writing fills a large part of my non-working day. I dont get to spend adequate time with my children; I dont get to help out around the house as often as I wish; some days, I barely have time to speak to Mama, let alone kiss on her. No, I need to do this full-time, this writing gig, and I *want* to do this. I dont want to punch a clock anymore. Im tired of working for someone else. Im just tired. My bodys beaten down and my brains are fried. So, were leaving. Heres the plan: we sell our house, we take the profits and buy a camper (or something to fit us all), and we travel the country. We should have some money left over to help for a couple of months. Ill spend a good deal of each day writing. Maybe paid articles. Maybe books. Maybe a novel. Maybe our blog will take off. Lots of maybes, for sure. Maybe I wont make a dime. I worry about that. What if I cant feed the kids? What if theyre hungry? Thats what worries me. What if, what if, what if? A man could go insane. Maybe I have. But this American Dream, this white picket fence, this safety, is no longer working. None of us are happy. Sure, moments of happiness exist, many of them actually, but could we be happier? Well never know unless we try. Well never catch our dreams unless were willing to cut the cord and fly. And maybe well come crawling back with our tails between our legs. Maybe well scratch our heads and wonder what the hell we were thinking. Maybe well fly too close to the sun and burn our wings. But maybe well soar. Maybe well find our American Dream, out there, wherever it is. Maybe our crazy dream will become a beautiful reality. So, were leaving. Leaving the standard, pre-packaged American Dream in hopes of discovering one that better suits our ideals. Leaving the big house with the pretty view. Leaving the memories. Leaving the comfortable, safe life. Well no longer be safe. I know this. Well be jumping without a chute. But we cant do this anymore. Safety isnt worth it. Our happiness is worth pursuing because, quite frankly, safety is slowly killing me. Okay, Im finally done. If you stuck with that to the end, youre an angel. Thanks for reading.
Posted on: Fri, 08 Nov 2013 18:27:09 +0000
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