I am traveling again. Much further afield than I ever have before, and I will be gone for longer. This trip is happening in two parts. The first part is all about exploring my profession, and the second part is about my enduring hobby-that-is-essential: bellydance. I have barely arrived here in part one of my trip, when I am longing to be at part two.
I have the unique opportunity to spend a couple of weeks learning from a great teacher. Today was our first day at his school. I felt unsettled for the better part of the day. Jet lag. Lack of sleep. Too much time in a group. All of these were true, but the truth came to me at the end of the day. I think I'm done with my profession. I love it. I will always love it. The thought of leaving it to do something else breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. But this work does not bring me joy in the same way that it used to or in the way that I need it to.
So I sat in the back of a crowded public transport truck in this foreign country, stuck in traffic for some festival or other, and I sat with the idea of changing professions, to see if it is right for me. And I realized that I'll never know if it's right for me. I have to make a decision and prepare to be wrong.
And it occurred to me that this must be how the Ex felt when he finally made the decision to end our marriage. He loved me. The thought of leaving me to go and be with someone else broke his heart into a thousand pieces. But I did not bring him joy in the same way that I used, or the way that he needed me to.
Ah, empathy.
The question now is, am I willing to work on saving my commitment to this profession more than the Ex was willing to work on saving his commitment to me?
And resentment.
Travel is exhausting.
