Moving Feels

The reality of our impending move is setting in hard.

I don’t know that I am ready for this next phase, and I have all of the emotions and feelings.

I am excited for the possibilities this new chapter will bring.

I am afraid of the unknown and unfamiliar.

I am happy for the opportunity to travel more.

I am worried about losing the friendships I’ve made.

I am curious about the culture (and food) we will learn so much about.

I am nervous about the possibility of repeating our last move.

I am apprehensive about S being on the plane for so long.

I am scared to relive the homesickness and loneliness I felt throughout our last move. I am scared of driving people away because of my insecurity in our friendship. I am scared of ruining D’s time abroad, again. I am scared of missing out on things happening at home. I am scared of feeling worthless, helpless, stuck. I am scared of the feeling of not having a purpose. I am scared of relapse with eating, with self-harm, with OCD thoughts and habits. I am scared.

I am anxious.

The past few weeks have been riddled with anxiety. Nights are hard. Sometimes I can’t sleep. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep. Days are okay – alone time is hard. An okay morning can quickly snowball into an anxious afternoon if I think about moving for too long. It hits me out of nowhere – I can’t breathe, and the next thing I know I’m sitting on the floor, crying. I feel pathetic. I don’t understand why I can’t handle this. I’ve been there before, I know what to expect, and yet it’s still just as hard as last time.

It doesn’t make it any easier that we still don’t have exact information regarding the move. I knew to expect this, so I’m not sure why I am surprised. But, I want answers. I want to know where exactly we are moving. I want to know when. I want to know exact lengths of time. I’ll have some of these questions answered, eventually. But most will remain unanswered sources of anxiety.

I know the success of this move is mostly dictated by my attitude about it. I will make or break my success throughout this chapter. That’s a scary thought, especially since I know negativity will most likely break it, and I’m feeling pretty fucking negative right now.

For now, I will focus on breathing, being open and honest, and trying to create a positive outlook on this incredible opportunity we’ve been given.

“Negativity is cannibalistic. The more you feed it, the bigger and stronger it grows.” – Bobby Darnell

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.”

I Am Happy

In my last post, I said 3 words that I never thought I would say while living here – “I am happy.”

The depth of those words didn’t really resonate until a few days later. They weren’t just words. I AM happy – the happiest I have been in over a year – and it is wonderful.

When we first moved, I didn’t think it would be a walk in the park. But, I definitely didn’t think it would be as difficult as it was, either. And here I am – 1 year, 12 weeks, and 3 days later – stronger, more brave, and so much happier.

The realization of that happiness sparked something within me. I began doubting our decision for D to quit his job and us to move straight back “home.” The whole reason for moving back immediately was that I honestly didn’t think I could be happy ANYWHERE else. Since that wasn’t the case anymore, maybe we should explore a few other places first? Did we need to settle somewhere right now in order to have a community in the future? Do we need to live somewhere we want to raise kids, when kids are still multiple years down the road? I began to think about my reasons for wanting to move back to Virginia immediately, and with the question of happiness aside, the only thing I could come up with was that I am scared of losing my best friends. The same best friends who stayed by my side while I lived almost 4,000 miles away for over a year. The same best friends who have seen me through some of my bests and some of my worsts. The same best friends who I know love me unconditionally. What gave me any reason to question that living a little over 1,300 miles apart would suddenly change everything? Nothing. All of the worry, all of the doubt, it was all unnecessary. So, after a lot of talks and some tears, D and I have decided to put our move to Virginia on hold and give Texas a shot. I have no doubt that this will be another difficult move – it’s a transition, and transitions are hard. But, I now know that I CAN be happy in other places, and I will.

I don’t know what happened. I don’t know when my mindset shifted. I assume it was gradual, but maybe it was sudden? All I know is that I HATED my life here, and now I don’t. I know that I wanted nothing more than to move right back to Virginia with my friends, and now waiting a little doesn’t seem so bad. As our time here draws to an end, I regret how unhappy I was, and I am sad to say goodbye to this chapter of my life. How much more could I have traveled if I had just been happier? How many more people could I have met if I didn’t let anxiety cripple me? How much more could I have grown if I had taken a step back and let myself live? The good news is, we still have about 13 weeks left here. We have time to take a few extra trips. I have time to push myself to try new things and meet new people. I have time to purposefully connect with the people I do know here. To let myself flourish in this newfound happiness.

I am nervous, but excited. I am scared, but brave. I am intrigued to see what this next chapter holds. I am ready to take on life. I am happy.