This move has put me on an emotional rollercoaster. I wasn’t prepared for that.
Kraig and I moved a lot. My older girls went to a different school every year until we moved here. The brass ring was always in sight and we jumped at it every time. When Doug and I moved here it was a chance to settle down and have a family. I don’t know how much I actually settled in here. There are things still in boxes from the move in. The garage is full of “I’ll get to it”. Things that need to be sorted or donated. I was finally starting to feel like we weren’t going anywhere and this pops up. It’s finally starting to sink in that we’re leaving. In 30 days we’re on the road. I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around it a little. Part of me has gone into moving-mode. Another part is fighting leaving this stability that we have built here. And yet another is trying to make the two work together. Oil and water, I tell ya!
In the last four years we have moved in together, gotten married, and had two kids. Doug’s had three jobs. Krystyne started high school. Allie started – and has now completed – middle school. Life has been created and lost in this house. I’ve made friends. Real, true and honest friends. I’ve found myself and defined who I am.
I am in such a weird place. I am looking forward to the time with family. My cousin, Alfredo, that I was so close to growing up will live within blocks. I’m looking forward to getting to know another better (It’s all you, Rene!). My kids will be able to have grandparents, aunts, and cousins around all the time. We’re an obnoxiously social bunch. When Doug and I got together I thought that it was an opportunity to have family close again. They’re a private bunch. The pop-ins and hang-outs I expected didn’t happen. I talk to my mom three times a week at least. She sees my sister about that much and my aunt almost daily. While my mom makes me a special kind of crazy (stop acting all shocked, Mom) we do pretty good when we have our own corners to retreat to. I haven’t lived this close to my family in 15 years or so.
My friends are here. That sounds so juvenile and petty. You can almost hear the foot stomping. Which is good, because it’s there. Friends! For the first time in my adult life I have a good, solid, supportive group of girlfriends. Putting the call out that I need “mediocre-Mexican” means something (at 34 means something way different than it would have at 24!).When my life is overwhelming, or completely friggin’ awesome, there is someone that I can just call and share it with. I have somewhere to be when my marriage or kids are trying my patience. A release when it seems like everyone in my house is tap-dancing on my last nerve. I have support that I am actually doing a good job and not making my kids into serial killers because I don’t hug them enough. I have a reminder that no one ever died from an un-mopped floor. There’s someone to drink wine and laugh with. Someone to to giggle over girl-stuff until we cry. These are the friends that you tell stuff your husband would be mortified if he knew what you shared with.
How do I find the balance? I don’t think I can. For now I just have to let the “mover” in my brain take over and let the rest figure itself out. I think the physical act of packing is the hardest part. One thing at a time I am removing myself from my home and the life I have built here. With every closed box I am farther from the support I need so desperately right now. Looking at my husband’s travel schedule for the next month is a great help. It reminds me that in the next two weeks he will be home 5 nights. And the two weeks after that I’ll be lucky to see him while it’s still light outside – and that’s saying something for this time of year in Washington.
So if it seems like I’m hiding, I am. If I don’t venture out I can manage to hold off just a little while longer. At least in my head. If I don’t call, don’t come to visit or update Facebook I can feel like I’m not saying goodbye with every conversation.
I should go pack…