But as the days dwindle on you start to realize things like…
this is my last Thursday in my apartment.
This is my last drive to work. I
have three more breakfasts, where will I go?
You start to make a legitimate bucket list like you will never come
back. I will come back. A lot.
But it’s weird. This is the city
I have known my entire life, and I’m leaving it.
And I am leaving the people that mean the most to me. New York isn’t far. I will be back a lot. I am an overly emotional person. I expected to cry a TON leading up to the
move, and it just hadn’t happened. Today
was my last day in the office and when I was leaving I really started to get
sad. The first chapter had actually
closed. Talking about leaving is one
thing, but this was the first real goodbye.
I left work, had dinner with friends and was really
happy. It was great to catch up and talk
about my new adventure. When I left I
called my mom, and she started saying all of the annoying mom things (sorry if
you’re reading this mom). But those
buttons that only your mom can push. And
push hard. I started getting
emotional. Like overly emotional. I called my sister (who has remained unbelievably
level headed through this whole thing) and she pointed out that maybe this is
just my mom’s way of coping. Maybe she
is stressed and upset about it and it’s coming out as annoying nagging mom things. Valid point.
But I can’t navigate anyone else’s stress, I have my own.
As I drove home I realized that one of the hardest things
about moving isn’t dealing with your own emotions, it’s dealing with the people
around you. I have constantly been
reassuring people I would visit, keep in touch etc. Talking my best friend off a ledge etc. I get a lot of “You must be so excited” or “are
you sad?” etc. But no one really wants
to know how you are doing. And I don’t think
I have asked myself. Of course I am
excited to go, and even when I think about leaving this city that has been home
my whole life, I am not sad. I am
ready. But after weeks and weeks of
dealing with other people’s emotions about my leaving, it is hitting me. I’ve been absorbing it and absorbing it and
there is no room for anyone else’s emotions about my move. I haven’t had room to feel my own feelings; I’ve
been dealing with everyone else’s.
Now I am nervous about my last three days here. I have to fit in work, packing, a final visit
home, a party at a friend’s, selling my car, a going away dinner, a furniture delivery,
and more packing. How? I have no idea. It will get done, I am sure of it, but there
is no space, no air. No time to digest
my own actual feelings about this move while I go through the motions of all
the things I need to do and people I
need to see. I am afraid that I am going
through this in such a blur that I am missing it.
I’m doing it though. On
my own. No one is coming to help me
unpack and settle in. And yes, I do wish
someone offered and could hold my hand through this. But maybe it’s better this way. I have todo it on my own, and I can embrace
and own the whole experience. And then a
week off of work, just me and my 37 cardboard boxes settling into my own 700
square feet of this amazing city that I get to make into my home. And that isn’t so bad.
