Between intensely suggesting that my tax advisor reassess my taxes for the third time, and thinking about the conversation Andy and I had had the day before, I choked back tears.
But when my tax advisor came up with the same damningly high numbers that I owed in April, she and everyone in the office knew I was a little upset.
Still, she walked me through everything. Expressed her apologies.
And threw in a coupon.
But it made for a long walk home.
After all, I’d have to talk to Andy about this, and how it was going to affect what we’d decided to do.
After a horrible evening of talking things through, blankly staring at the television as The Office failed to make us laugh, we went to bed early with the weight of tax burdens coloring our formerly rose-colored outlook a dismal, impenetrable black.
But the next day, my parents reminded me why I’m so goddamned fortunate to have them.
And after I ugly cried and they told me not to freak out, Andy and I were able to breathe once again.
And shore up the crack that taxes had made in our resolve. And savings.
Soon enough, between family and friends offering their support and help, we were again reminded that we have a ridiculously amazing cheerleading squad. And can never express deeply enough how much “Go for it!” or “How can I help?” or “Here you go!” measures up when naysayers have plenty of negativity to direct at us.
So, we’ve decided to listen to our family and friends.
But, most importantly, to our hearts.
To Los Angeles.
Before you turn to your cubicle or cellmate and say, “They crazeh!” I’ll beat you to it and tell you, “You’re right!”
But if we’re not a little crazy or a little naive, we’ll never take the step. We’ll just languish in the “what ifs,” and will have to drink ourselves to sleep whenever we watch Revolutionary Road.
Speaking of which, we watched that amazingly good movie the night we decided to move. And you know what? It helped.
Because the next day when the tax shit hit the fan, there were lots of questions, lots of “Oh, we’re delusional. This will never happen.”
But before I whipped out a rubber hose and pump, and Andy started screaming, “She did it to herself! She did it to herself!” we kept the plan alive.
By imagining that we’d still pursue it, even if we had a giant hurdle thrown in our way.
Because, throughout this process, tenacity is crucial.
Thankfully, we’re both ridiculously stubborn when it comes to folding under pressure.
Even though we know that starting over is absolutely, insanely difficult.
But we’ve each done it before.
And being doggedly determined to try rather than wonder can’t hurt.
So, it starts now.
Leaving toxic work environments in our wake.
Telling ourselves that we’re worth more, and can offer more, than the asshats think.
Living and pursuing lives we want.
Retracing our steps.
Learning from tumbles and tribulations.
Cherishing our victories.
And embracing our gay, man-infested destiny as we create a future.
All the way back there.