A Burst Bubble

San Diego was a bubble for me. Not only a bubble of perfect weather but a protective shield from all the troubles we left here in the South. Our worries didn't disappear when we moved but every mile we put between us made them seem smaller and smaller until they were very easily ignored. Hometown gossip, family drama, people's expectations of us -- none of it mattered because it was 2,000 miles away. 

No one knew us in San Diego. No one knew our families. No one knew our past. It was so easy to make our own choices and be whoever we wanted to be. I felt a burden lifted and I thrived in anonymity. 

That life was difficult in a way because we had no help. If we got a flat tire or needed to borrow a ladder or wanted a date night, it wasn't a given that someone would automatically be there. We had to depend on ourselves and our own resourcefulness. That made life a little harder but it also made us stronger and sharper. We were always on our toes and on top of things to ensure that we rarely got into a bind that required someone else's aid. 

I'm sure it sounds crazy but with all this help, so much help, I somehow feel weaker. Don't get me wrong, it's somewhat of a relief to have a break from being "on" all the time. But we've been here for almost a month and the feeling of impotence is starting to grate on me. I feel a need to get back out there, out of the safety net. To reclaim our independence and make our own way again. 

We probably won't ever have the cushion of 2,000 miles again. That bubble is, more than likely, forever burst. But we've gone from one extreme to the other now and I'm getting restless. I need at least a little padding between us and all the love, trouble, help, and annoyance that comes with being in our hometown.