You can't always get what you want......

I recently learned that all grey's anatomy episodes are titled after songs, and decided to do the same with my blog.... for about this one, after which I will most likely abandon the idea. This was just the song that was on replay in my head as I formulated this entry. The subtitle might have been "Packing and Moving....On."

It has been a very emotional, productive weekend, one of my last in Minnesota, involved a great deal of packing and family time. I think these two themes can do a lot to bring a person to their knees in general, and this was my reaction several times this weekend.

I had my happy hour-evening on Thursday, one of the last times I will see many friends and co-workers and launched straight into a busy workday with snowy conditions and heavily scheduled time. I slept at my mom's on Friday, and finally fell into the deep REM sleep I have been missing and craving. It was like the change of scenery and the knowledge that my bags were far far away in uptown and I couldn't repack them if I wanted to that allowed me the chance to finally relax. I slept a solid 12 hours, and woke up to spend a little time with the fam before heading down to south Minneapolis for a massage. This was a wonderful, relaxing experience, my body has been hording incredible amounts of stress and tension and just as I felt it might be releasing some of it, that time was over and I was launched back into the reality of the small amount of time that is left to do so many things. My mom and sister came over and helped me pack (or really repack because I sort of had my bags packed or at least stuff pretty much prepared to pack) and at first is was fun and lighthearted, showing all the things I was bringing, the new t-shirts and the outfits I had planned and it was fun to laugh about some of the more ridiculous things I was planning to bring (yoga mat, foam roller, nail polish) then came the heaviness. In more ways than one. No more giggling and poking fun. The time had come to weigh the bags.

And they were overweight.

Not by a ton or by any ridiculous amounts, but enough that things definitely had to be removed. I had packed and repacked a few times already and thought I had done pretty good to get myself down to the bare minimum. And it wasn't enough. More had to go. To most this wouldn't seem like too terribly big of a deal. For those of you that know me, you'll know that I am a reformed (??????) hoarder. As with any addictive type personality deal, once you have certain behavior patterns that reward you or give you a charge in any way, they are hard to break and may haunt you your whole life. I personally have found that I have a delusional thinking pattern that means if I just have enough stuff and products and food around me that things will be ok, I will be secure, and life will be easier and more manageable. As long as I have enough toilet paper, nothing unexpected can happen. I will not have to be inconvenienced by going to the grocery store, because I will have that can of coconut milk that the recipe calls for (which is incidentally all the more ridiculous because I neither cook, nor know of any recipes that require coconut milk.) It just must have seemed like a staple to me at some point-in my defense when I found the bugger I brought it directly to my new neighbor K-Train's place, and in retrospect I think Jack bought it but.. whatever....

I consider myself to have come leaps and bounds from the girl who used to keep a year (or two) supply of shampoo and products on hand and would have bought more if it were on sale at Target. I moved out of my old house two years ago in a u-haul and could now probably fit all my worldly possessions into a geo metro (ok maybe not but how's that for metaphor!!!) I have been throwing away and giving away and selling anything and damn near everything. I have gone from the girl who couldn't pass the Clearance rack without grabbing a few things and had t-shirts from high school to the girl who would literally give you the shirt off her back if you asked for it- and the matching shoes and purse (hey I'm getting rid of it anyways! do you want these boots, too? I can't take them with me and you certainly do look like a size 6!!!! ) I have a list of people who can attest to the fact that this has actually happened- my stylish and lucky friends! and sometimes strangers! I gave a homeless man next to the 35W overpass a can of pears the other day. I had been carrying the buggers around for a week meaning to eat them. I guess I know why I was dragging them around now...anyhoo

I've come a long way baby, and at this point the idea that all I would have in the world for the next two years would have to fit in these two bags at 80 pounds was just a little more than overwhelming. Yes, a big part of my inspiration for joining the Peace Corps was to have the opportunity to face some of these dysfunctions I carry head on. But it's not easy. Before I embarked on this adventure an certain elements of my life were boring. There was not enough forward motion and change, I wasn't learning and challenging myself. I had no firm direction that I passionately believed in with my heart, soul and mind. This path has given my life a kick start and already taught me so many wonderful lessons, and has helped me begin to face some of my demons. I wouldn't do anything differently.

But I would be lying if I didn't sometimes stop and think (or really, stamp my foot while crying hysterically) that I'm ready for a rest now. I need a break. I want to get off this carnival ride that my life has become. I just want a pause and for things to be simpler, or to not have to take care of this, that, and the next thing because I am on a magic carpet ride of a schedule to get my ass out of this country. My body has become a physical manifestation of my mental state and I am barely sleeping and nearly constantly in some sort of pain or another. I spend a great deal of time pissed off or irritated and overwhelmed.

When I think I cannot handle one more ounce of anything, I suddenly look back to realize while throwing my fit, I just have. That things have fallen into place and all the effort I had mustered up in planning to deal with something was unnecessary, and can be redirected to the next thing on the list. I have suddenly become better at letting others take the wheel, letting things go, compromising, and taking less than 150 % as good enough. I've come closer to realizing and accepting that I can't have, or do, it all.

Except, apparently, when I am packing.

My sister, who can occasionally be ruthless and was thus good at this sort of cutting back, (and who may have just gotten a little bit of joy from this particular task) yanked open the suitcases and carefully scrutinized everything in them, weighing items in her hands, questioning them, challenging them, or just plain tossing them out. (After which she generally put them in her purse or hid them from me so I couldn't sneak them back in.) She quickly and efficiently got the bags down to the correct weight while I whimpered in the corner and my mom promised to send many, many care packages. It nearly killed me to have my baby sister do this, but she is the only person on Earth who knows me well enough to be trusted with it. She cut straight through my bullshit items and their lame reasons for being included, knew where I was trying to sneak in some extra luxury things, and narrowed down my O.P.I nailpolish selection to a measly two bottles. She threw out drink powders and made me defend the number of shoes I was bringing (Hey some things are non-negotiable. I've heard the shoe quality is horrible in Africa as a whole).

So I'm packed. Crisis averted. I can't say I feel completely at peace with it....

Because really, generally at the moment I begin to feel gratitude and think I have my shit together, something else falls apart. But it all boils down to what The Purple One calls "this thing called life." This weekend I realized that although I thought I had transcended my hording issues, they're still there. And I may never be the girl who can fit all her shit in the geo metro.
Having realized that security is somewhat an illusion and deciding to throw everything (sometimes literally) into the wind by joining the Peace Corps doesn't mean that my issues surrounding security (amongst other things!!!) are dealt with. They will continue to rear their ugly little heads throughout the course of my life. Even though I thought I had anticipated and dealt thoroughly with leaving Minneapolis, my family and friends, and any number of the possibly scenarios that could occur while I'm gone, this is a job never done. Shit will always be going down. My family/friends/job/life will never be in the "perfect place" from which I can easily leave. I will never be able to wrap up any portion of my life neatly with a bow and say "there, finished" and feel completely settled about it and move forward without an ounce of angst or hesitation or even panic. From a point long in the past, and into a point far in the future, I will never have every single person I love in one area. I will always be missing someone, or something. No matter what, I have to give things up to embark on this new journey. You can't always get what you want.

The lesson with which I will fall asleep tonight lies in the rest of the lyric. Maybe a key to happiness, or fulfillment, or whatever it is that we are searching for as residents of this world lies in the idea of knowing that whatever you want, or think you want, or have, or are trying to get or get rid of, you'll still be in exactly the place you need to be, on the path that will get you there. You just have to move forward and trust that you can fall back.


But if you try sometimes,


you might find......



You get what you need.