Well, I'm off.
This whole last week was an insane flurry of stress and activity. I had no idea how bad arranging this move was going to be. I spent hours on the phone with moving companies and car carriers, on hold, dealing with lousy service and a ridiculous amount of miscommunication (seriously, you’d think two people with different last names had never moved together before). In the meantime, Constance and I mostly just watched a lot of TV. This is really hard- it feels like we just barely started actually being friends.
Stayed up all night, airport at 4 am. It finally hit me in the security line at SeaTac- I’ve lived here, in this beautiful city, for a long time. This is my home. This is where my family is. This is where I’ve been happiest. Every image of myself, of my life, is here. I don’t even know how to go about beginning to picture a life anywhere else.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making this move for all the wrong reasons- despair and depression and inability to move forward and take control of my own life. And moving to a new city to fix a floundering relationship may not be as stupid as, say, having a baby to do that, but it’s not too far off. This may well be a complete trainwreck, not because of him or anything but because I’m fundamentally lonely and unhappy and incapable and looking to external things and other people just doesn’t fix that.
So I’m sitting in the crappy international terminal at O’Hare being maudlin, because this is the horrible sinking moment right after you make an irrevocable decision when you don’t yet know if it will be okay but there’s nothing you can do, and the trip itself isn’t yet keeping my mind occupied.
Stayed up all night, airport at 4 am. It finally hit me in the security line at SeaTac- I’ve lived here, in this beautiful city, for a long time. This is my home. This is where my family is. This is where I’ve been happiest. Every image of myself, of my life, is here. I don’t even know how to go about beginning to picture a life anywhere else.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making this move for all the wrong reasons- despair and depression and inability to move forward and take control of my own life. And moving to a new city to fix a floundering relationship may not be as stupid as, say, having a baby to do that, but it’s not too far off. This may well be a complete trainwreck, not because of him or anything but because I’m fundamentally lonely and unhappy and incapable and looking to external things and other people just doesn’t fix that.
So I’m sitting in the crappy international terminal at O’Hare being maudlin, because this is the horrible sinking moment right after you make an irrevocable decision when you don’t yet know if it will be okay but there’s nothing you can do, and the trip itself isn’t yet keeping my mind occupied.