Greener grass syndrome -- Have you ever wished you were somewhere else? Like maybe the metaphorical grass is greener way over there. Over there, my problems will feel easier. Maybe even disappear. Over there, everything will be okay. Over there, I’d be able to handle everything better.
I think it’s always both. At least that’s been my experience. I’ve made two major transitions in my life. The first was in 2002, when my husband and I loved Maui so much after our first vacation there that we sold our home in PA, resigned from our calls as pastors, and moved to Maui. We did not have jobs or housing lined up in advance. We ended up living there for ten years and I’d happily move back to Maui if money wasn’t an issue. That move was more about moving toward something new than running away from our previous life, but there were still things we were eager to leave behind.
The second major transition was leaving behind our careers as pastors. At first we didn’t choose to do that; we were coerced into resigning from a joint call in 2020 abruptly and without explanation by that congregation’s council. As we interviewed for other calls both together and separately, it became increasingly apparent that in our polarized society (especially in southern states; we live in TX) and at our age (mid-late 50s) being pastors was no longer a viable option for us.
So this transition is much more about running from a toxic environment and we’re still figuring out what we’re moving toward. But the freedom to be honest about my beliefs, call out the hypocrisy and cruelty of some religious and political leaders, and not have to worry about how church members will react is liberating!
I’m now primarily a freelance writer, and also a part time tutor; my husband is currently an Uber driver.
Hi Jenny. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I am stuck in a place where I doubt that my thoughts or feelings matter or even if they exist. I just try to get through each day as best I can. Feels like just going through hoops . Facing obstacles. No time or energy for creativity. Age is part of this. I am retired 75 and no real plan. Just floating. Grateful for my health and safety. I have much to be grateful for. Waiting for direction.
Thank you for naming this, Karen. It sounds like a deeply difficult space to be in. What season of transition. Identity changes too, I imagine? I wonder if there are sacred spaces you might place yourself in as you wait for new nudges? May Love surprise you as you journey.
I love that I can read your thoughts and see you picture here. I miss you. And, this article struck a big chord. I moved so many times as a child and young adult that moving away or toward has no interest for me, I see no help in it. I was long determined not to move again, after finally getting my own house, at 35. There are some big negatives in that also. I turned down a couple of very lucrative positions, partly the idea of moving, partly my disabled husband, and I stayed in a bad relationship. Now, more than 30 years later, I've learned a couple of things, one is to bloom where I'm planted, the other is to find my tribe and be with them as much as possible. And, being active with as many young people as I can, to keep my positive view of the world.
I find that once I start going down a route of 'if only I had xxxxxxxx' repeatedly, it's a sign that things aren't okay. It's a really useful tool that I'm so grateful to have first recognised when I was recovering from serious illness in my twenties.
Oh, and I've run away. That was a learning curve, I can tell you! It turned out I'd taken the problem with me. 👀
Excellent ..there's different types of running away for different people. For me trying to fit in at the expense of just sitting myself down and writing and creating is a real challenge. No need to be concerned with accolades just go do what moves mind and heart and trust a higher love however. I like your book, Still Here. It's inspired me to risk.
Yes, having made a similar move last year, I totally get what you're saying, and you're inspiring me to explore this in a post of my own.
Because sometimes it can be *both*, in a way. I was leaving behind something that was difficult, and my lesson was in letting it go rather than trying to fix something that wasn't for me to mend.
I think it’s always both. At least that’s been my experience. I’ve made two major transitions in my life. The first was in 2002, when my husband and I loved Maui so much after our first vacation there that we sold our home in PA, resigned from our calls as pastors, and moved to Maui. We did not have jobs or housing lined up in advance. We ended up living there for ten years and I’d happily move back to Maui if money wasn’t an issue. That move was more about moving toward something new than running away from our previous life, but there were still things we were eager to leave behind.
The second major transition was leaving behind our careers as pastors. At first we didn’t choose to do that; we were coerced into resigning from a joint call in 2020 abruptly and without explanation by that congregation’s council. As we interviewed for other calls both together and separately, it became increasingly apparent that in our polarized society (especially in southern states; we live in TX) and at our age (mid-late 50s) being pastors was no longer a viable option for us.
So this transition is much more about running from a toxic environment and we’re still figuring out what we’re moving toward. But the freedom to be honest about my beliefs, call out the hypocrisy and cruelty of some religious and political leaders, and not have to worry about how church members will react is liberating!
I’m now primarily a freelance writer, and also a part time tutor; my husband is currently an Uber driver.
You're so right. We move toward and away from life chapters for such complex reasons. Honoring every step of those discernments.
😘 Wendi!
Hi Jenny. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I am stuck in a place where I doubt that my thoughts or feelings matter or even if they exist. I just try to get through each day as best I can. Feels like just going through hoops . Facing obstacles. No time or energy for creativity. Age is part of this. I am retired 75 and no real plan. Just floating. Grateful for my health and safety. I have much to be grateful for. Waiting for direction.
Thank you for naming this, Karen. It sounds like a deeply difficult space to be in. What season of transition. Identity changes too, I imagine? I wonder if there are sacred spaces you might place yourself in as you wait for new nudges? May Love surprise you as you journey.
I love that I can read your thoughts and see you picture here. I miss you. And, this article struck a big chord. I moved so many times as a child and young adult that moving away or toward has no interest for me, I see no help in it. I was long determined not to move again, after finally getting my own house, at 35. There are some big negatives in that also. I turned down a couple of very lucrative positions, partly the idea of moving, partly my disabled husband, and I stayed in a bad relationship. Now, more than 30 years later, I've learned a couple of things, one is to bloom where I'm planted, the other is to find my tribe and be with them as much as possible. And, being active with as many young people as I can, to keep my positive view of the world.
Such a thought-provoking post, Jenny. 😘
I find that once I start going down a route of 'if only I had xxxxxxxx' repeatedly, it's a sign that things aren't okay. It's a really useful tool that I'm so grateful to have first recognised when I was recovering from serious illness in my twenties.
Oh, and I've run away. That was a learning curve, I can tell you! It turned out I'd taken the problem with me. 👀
Yesssss. So good. Thanks for naming this out loud. Grateful we're all learning life together. :)
😊
Excellent ..there's different types of running away for different people. For me trying to fit in at the expense of just sitting myself down and writing and creating is a real challenge. No need to be concerned with accolades just go do what moves mind and heart and trust a higher love however. I like your book, Still Here. It's inspired me to risk.
Oh, I'm so excited to see what will continue to emerge from your spirit as you create. Let's take all the risks together!
You are very kind.
Thank you for this, Jenny.
Yes, having made a similar move last year, I totally get what you're saying, and you're inspiring me to explore this in a post of my own.
Because sometimes it can be *both*, in a way. I was leaving behind something that was difficult, and my lesson was in letting it go rather than trying to fix something that wasn't for me to mend.
Yes! I think it often is both. We want it to be so pure but so much of life is messier than I ever want to admit.