When I was 19, I won the "song of the day" contest on the radio---it was Journey's "Girl Can't Help it," and I told my best friend I was going to win that money because, hey, I'm the biggest Journey fan in our whole hometown, right? So it made perfect sense. I knew at 9 a.m. when the song was announced, that I would win it. By the time 5:30 p.m. came, and the song was actually played, I dialed in and I won that $1,000.00 bucks. Something in my gut just told me I would, and therefore, I did. I took that money and decided to leave forever, to start a new life in Florida, and I would stay with my aunt and uncle for awhile until I could get a place of my own. Seemed like a great idea at the time. Everybody told me to go for it. So I did.

But then the reality of it set in...I spent nearly half the money shipping all my belongings there; then my parents drove me halfway, and we met my aunt and uncle somewhere in Kentucky, and they drove me the rest of the way to Jacksonville. I was there one week. I then turned around and went back home with my tail between my legs, having learned that my uncle was a violent alcoholic who liked to punch holes in walls. I spent every dime of that money, mostly shipping stuff back and forth, thinking I was embarking on a brand new life of my own---one that would really be good, because God knows it couldn't get much WORSE than where I was, right?

That was the first time I fell for the "grass is greener" syndrome.

At 19, it was easy to just pack it up and take off, I had my whole life ahead of me. I did this very same thing again when I was 27. I had $500 left to my name, a rusty beat up old car that I stuffed with as much of my clothes and stuff as I could, and I took off to start a life in DC. If my car died in Indiana, so be it, I would start a life in Indiana. If it died in Ohio, fine, that would work too, I didn't really care. I just knew wherever I'd end up HAD to be better than where I was. My navy boyfriend at the time expected me to live with him in Norfolk, but I never made it that far because I got a bug up my ass about working at the Holocaust Museum instead. And so, I tied up all the loose ends in Michigan and took off to DC. I really believed, again, that the grass was greener there, and life would be great.

I've been in DC now since 1996. I had no idea how hard life is out here, how expensive everything was, how strange the people were...it was a huge culture shock. It took me a long time to find my way around, to figure things out, to adjust to this new life of mine. I was scared to death. At first I was excited to be here, but after a few months, it was mostly regret that I had made a horrible decision, and what the heck was I thinking. I should just pack it up and go back home again. But then I was hired at the Museum and I decided perhaps I should stick around awhile. Six years later, a new cynical side of me appeared, sarcastic, with a dark sense of humor and even somewhat masochistic tendencies...I wasn't sure how I'd changed, I just knew I had grown harder somehow. Meaner. Tough-skinned I guess. City life can do that do a person even if you don't realize it's happening to you.

I realized with a jolt at one point that, if it hadn't been for Adolf Hitler, I wouldn't have a job, and how bizarre that 65 years after his cowardly suicide, the man was still somehow creating jobs and influencing neo-Nazi groups to pop up all over the place...I spent the day crying in the bathroom when I realized he actually paid for my car, my apartment, and the food in my fridge. I felt sick to my soul. But I dug in even deeper to all things Holocaust related, feeling that I had finally found my "place" in the world, I had finally accomplished something bigger than myself, and I would do my best to teach the world of these dangerous things.

But then, 9/11 happened and threw me into chaos. Nobody was listening to my six years of teaching. Nobody wanted to be saved. I had to pick up the shattered bits of my life, while sitting in a dank and musty basement in Michigan inside my sister's house, wondering what the hell had just happened. My life that had taken so many years to create, had suddenly just been obliterated, and I didn't know what hit me.

The next few years were a slow and steady death for me. All the dreams and hope for the future I had before, were gone. I struggled and stagnated and just tried to make it through the day. Eventually when all kinds of shit hit the fan, I decided that I would either end my life or leave Michigan again, to start my life over back in DC. So after some deliberation, I packed it up and left again, figuring I could start over one more time, and see how things went, because after all, life in DC HAD to be better than it was in Michigan, right? It wasn't easy, sure, but I had to try.

And so I came back to DC in 2004 at age 35, thinking I could just dig back in, I knew my way around, I had friends here, I could get a decent job somewhere again and be okay. Made perfect sense. It was either that, or just end it all so I might as well make one more stab at it before throwing in the towel.

I've been in DC again, for a little over 4 years. I am 40 now. I have no illusions about greener grass existing somewhere else. I only know wherever I go, it will be difficult, it will be frought with peril and obstacles to overcome...nothing worthwhile in this life is ever going to be easy...nothing worth doing is ever going to make perfect sense...and one thing I have learned the hard way, is that sometimes breaking out of a comfort zone is the hardest thing we can ever do...especially as we grow older. That comfort zone has less of a hold on us when we are younger, but somehow it tightens its grip on us as we grow older. I don't know if I can do it this time. I am too old now, and set in my ways. I am too stuck in my rut to really try very hard to get out of it. I am in mourning, but that goes both ways. I am mourning the loss of my life, the one I had thought would be better here, but isn't. I am also mourning another move, another stab at trying to be happy, which (as my experience has taught me) probably won't turn out the way I'd like to think it will.

I am being nudged out of my comfort zone by everyone around me. Last night during Peter's visit, he said, "you have been sitting in a basement hole in the ground with closed windows and doors for a long time. Now those windows and doors are slowly coming open, and you're coming back out into the world, though skittish. But you need to keep moving, keep going towards the fresh air and get out into the world again." I cried like a baby on his shoulder because of this. He's pushing me out and away from DC, he didn't realize I would shake like a leaf and become hysterical but that is how I spent my evening, being nudged and torn away from my comfort zone, gently nudged perhaps, but still torn, in a tug of war that is slowly tearing away at my soul.

At 40, it is increasingly difficult to pack it all up and move to start life over again. But that is what is happening, I feel powerless to prevent it, I know life has to change in order for us to grow...logically it all makes perfect sense...but I think logic takes a backseat sometimes over our gut-instincts, and mine is saying, "too fast, too soon, too scarey, slow down, oh god, i'm going to fall on my face, I'm going to fail, and I can't afford to fail this time, I've failed at every other move I've made, but this one would definitely be the end of me if it doesn't work out I just know it..."

I'm an emotional mess today. I will have to leave Peter behind, and he's my security blanket. I can't even cry without him there to hold me and tell me to let it all out. He made me cum and cry so hard and so much last night, I was both physically and emotionally depleted, so I went to bed at 8:30 p.m.

Then Pete called. I am afraid I wasn't a very good conversationalist last night. My brain could not retain much, it had shut down for the evening. He's still looking for a place that we can share together, and I've been looking for a job there too. He's ready for this but I'm still scared to death. Peter said if I weren't scared, he would be alarmed. I think we are going to plan on seeing each other on occasional Fridays, when we both take a day off, and I can drive back down here to be with him at a hotel for the day. That's an idea we've talked about at least, I don't know if Pete will go for that, but it's an option of keeping my security blanket with me awhile and it gives me some comfort at least, even if it never really happens later.

All I know is, I'm tired of moving and starting my life over, only to be disappointed and failing every time to get anywhere...this will have to be the last time for me. I know my limits, and I just cannot keep going through this anymore. I'm not strong enough.

---Sassy Girl