Scattered thoughts

(This is as scattered as my mind. It won’t flow well. Just pretend it’s not that bad.)

I try not to post when I’m going through something rough. I try to only talk about it once I’m through it or I have found a solution because, really, no one wants to read a bunch of whining with no resolution. But frankly, at this point, I don’t give a damn.

Moving out of the country was an AWESOME idea in November. Best idea I ever had. It was time to see what I was made of, and it was time for my “walkabout” as my friend Carol puts it. I felt like I was adhering to rules, living how other people expected me to, and I was miserable. I wanted to be free and explore the world, and I found a way to do it.

I had always wanted to- that hadn’t changed. But I was sick of waiting for someone to do it all with. None of us are promised another day, and none of us are promised a soul mate or a life long partner. I just got sick of waiting for it, so I made plans to do it alone. I felt empowered, strong, independent, untouchable. I didn’t “need” to wait for anyone- I was competent, financially sound, and there was no reason not to go.

 

The move is now 2 weeks away. At this point, I should be packed, excited, and half way out the door.

Instead, I cry. I cry all the time. I wake up crying. I go to sleep crying. I walk through the grocery store and post office crying. I shower crying. I work crying. I probably cry in my sleep. Every time someone asks me when the “big day” is, I cry. When neighbors ask how I am, I cry. Sunday, I curled up on my bathroom floor, and sobbed heavily for a straight hour. My previous methods for calming myself down aren’t working anymore. There is no telling what people thing about me. I don’t care. My friends seem to understand, so they let me cry- what else can they really do? Buy tickets to come see me? Yes. Believe me, I insisted. 🙂

It seems that as soon as everything was finalized and paid for, the Universe conspired against me to stop me from going.

Or did it? Maybe it is just giving me more ammunition. I haven’t decided.

Circumstances have sucked. The weirdest things have happened lately- I have had a hard time figuring out when I wake up if something really happened or it was a dream. I have to check my emails, texts, and phone calls to make sense of things. No, I’m not high, Mom.

You know when you are done with a place (or a relationship) and it’s time to move on? You are ready to move on. It may be sad, but it’s just time. I don’t feel that… I thought I would, but this life here is amazing. My relationships here are incredible. I feel like I’m breaking up with someone I’m in love with, and that “someone” is the city of Austin.

My close friends have watched me go from over-the-moon excited to depressed beyond consolation and back in a matter of hours. Even though outside circumstances have been throwing- no, HURLING things at me, my support system is still on the sidelines shouting, encouraging, clapping, pushing, rooting for me. Through all of the pain and tears, they are there. And every once in awhile, I have a nice long chat with someone who finds a way to ease my pain and remind me that this is what I wanted, and I have to follow through and be confident in my decisions; that the biggest accomplishments come from the biggest risks; that there is a lot riding on this trip- there is a purpose to it, and I can’t just give up on it; and that they will be here when I get back.

I met someone recently who moved to New York for 6 months, and when he returned, he said he was welcomed with open arms back into the climbing community, and all of his friends were right here, like he never missed a beat!

Another friend is a world traveler and he comes home every few months to work on getting new visas, then he leaves again. But when he is here, his friends make time with him a priority, and it seems that his relationships are very strong.

Both of these men have been really encouraging, and their stories are re-assuring.

I still can’t help but wonder if relationships I have begun here will still be here. I’m terrified that I’ll be forgotten and there won’t be room for me when I get back. If I stayed here, the relationships would continue to thrive. Hopefully. But there’s no guarantee, is there? Will I be welcomed back when I return? Will I have missed everything? Will people care the same? Will we still go climbing and have pool parties, and go camping? Will I find a good support system wherever I go? Will I really enjoy where I’m going even if I’m alone? Will I be able to accomplish everything I want while I’m away? Is it worth leaving all of this here? Will I feel as pained inside when I’m there as I am here? Will I miss home so much that it will be unbearable?

I don’t know. I was reminded by a friend not long ago that if I knew how something turned out it wouldn’t really be an adventure…

I suppose he is right. Maybe I should channel my fear of the unknown into thrill of an adventure. I should probably work on that.

For now, I have packing to do… and wine to drink.