Here We Go Again

I feel it creeping in again.

The feelings of anxiety, of sadness bordering on depression, of not being in control.

I haven’t felt hungry in days, which makes it really difficult to want to eat.

I am lonely, and it’s day 1 of summer break.

How did I get here…again? How did I not see this coming?

About 2 months ago, D came home with some pretty big news. He was on a project that would eventually send us on a move sometime in 2018, but his boss offered him a new gig – we move in August-September time frame.

I was a very integral part of this decision, and I do feel like it is probably the right choice to go ahead and go through with the move. However, it’s frustrating that the second a place starts feeling like “home,” we up and move again. It’s comforting to know that we will return to this location, eventually, but I also know that life continues to happen and things will change while we are gone.

We also don’t know where we are going yet. We have three possible locations, one more likely than the others, and all three on different continents. Want to know what makes an already stressful situation more stressful…not knowing what continent you will live on in 3 months.

As anxious, stressed, and nervous as I am about the entire situation, I also feel incredibly selfish for feeling this way. I know I should be excited. I know should be looking forward to this new chapter of this amazing life that D, S, and I get to experience. But in reality, I just want to curl up on the couch and pretend it’s not happening…again.

I am scared of living in another country where I probably won’t work, probably won’t have friends, and probably will sit home alone all day. I am scared of living another year relying on weekend trips and visitors to make me happy. I am scared of another opportunity to significantly regress in my recovery. I am scared of losing friends (shoutout to C and A and B and everyone else who continues to put up with these concerns even when they are unwarranted). I am scared of being homesick, depression, and putting D through the hell he experienced last move.

Friday was my last day of school. I had a very difficult year – I truly don’t believe teaching is for me. But even so, I miss my kids, I miss my coworkers, and I miss having a purpose. I don’t know what I want to do in life right now, which makes me even more anxious.

Finally, this weekend was incredible. D and I met C, P, A, and J in NYC for a fun Memorial Day weekend. I miss all of them so much, so any time we get together makes me so happy. I also got the chance to meet up with B (which was absolutely fantastic, exactly what I hoped it would be, and I can’t wait to meet again). But, after spending such quality time with my closest friends, I am definitely having some post-trip blues.

All of this has snowballed into a big ball of anxiousness, sadness, and loneliness. I know I need to be productive and go to the store. I know I need to eat. I know I need to do the next right thing. But, I don’t want to. And this is how I know I’m falling back into that hole. I can feel the downward spiral and I haven’t reached the point of wanting to catch myself and climb out.

I also don’t want to open up about it. I mentioned it slightly to C, A, and B over the weekend. I even acknowledged that he was right when D called me on some old anxious habits (twisting my hair over and over again). But, I’m not ready to admit that I am struggling…again. I’m not ready to admit that after almost a year of relatively okay recovery with only slight bumps here and there, that I feel shaky and weak in my recovery right now. I’m not ready to reach out for support and disappoint everyone who has helped me reach this point. I’m not ready to feel ashamed.

So for now, I will sit and listen to “She Used To Be Mine” on repeat. Thank you Sara Bareilles.

“She’s imperfect, but she tries

She is good, but she lies

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won’t ask for help

She is messy, but she’s kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone, but she used to be mine.”

All of the Feels

I think I have more feelings than I ever thought I had.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a rather closed off person – less attachment equals less of a chance to get hurt. My parents frequently described me as unaffectionate and uncaring. I never really thought that was true – shy, apprehensive, and anxious I could see, I just didn’t see how that translated to a lack of affection.

As I’ve matured, moved away, met new people, I’ve realized that while I’m not quick to get sappy with my family, if I am in environment where I feel safe to be myself, I have no problem opening up.

I can see that this rings truest when I am around D, C, or A. People who I know love me for who I am and have my back no matter what. People whose backs I have no matter what. People that I couldn’t imagine doing life without.

I’ve talked a lot about missing home and the people there before, but last night I realized that there are multiple ways to miss someone or somewhere or something. Ever since we moved, I’ve missed C and A every day. It’s a constant feeling, one I know is always there in the back of my mind, but also one that I can distract myself from. I like to tell myself that’s how they feel too! 🙂 When you get caught up in life – dog walks, work (if you’re working), schedules, appointments, etc. can work as distractions to keep your mind off of the fact that you miss something. I don’t constantly sit around thinking about how I miss C or A, even though I know that feeling is always there. (Side note – I also constantly miss Whole Foods, Chipotle, and Target).

But, there are different types of missing. The other kind happens when I let my guard down for a few minutes and it hits me hard. This type hurts – heartache, pit in my stomach hurts. It doesn’t happen as frequently as it used to. Actually, during our first few months here, I think I lived in a perpetual state of this type of missing – not healthy. But now, it happens at random times throughout my day or week. A memory, a story I want to tell but then I realize it’s 3am their time, a missed facetime call, a missed event due to distance, or something as simple as needing or knowing they need a hug. Little things (or big things) can trigger this type of miss. It leaves me wide awake at night, hugging myself a little tighter, reminding myself that I only have 5 more months until we are reunited for good. It also reminds me to stop for a second, say a quick prayer, and be thankful for having friendships that cause this type of missing. (Another side note – I have never had this type of miss for Whole Foods, Chipotle, or Target).

But, I also wonder if I am alone in this phenomenon I’ve discovered about myself. D, or C, or A never talk about experiencing this shift in types of missing. It makes me worry that out of everyone this move and this year touched, I was the one who struggled the most to handle it appropriately. It makes me feel weak, anxious, and a little alone. It makes me worry that things might not be “normal” as I knew them before we moved, once we move back. I can’t shake it.

Missing someone is not about how long it has been since you have seen them or the amount of time since you have talked…it is about that very moment when you are doing something and wishing they were there with you. —Anonymous