I am officially unemployed (or unwaged as I prefer to call it). And in 23 days I will be homeless. Not where I had envisioned my life would be at 34.
I’m enjoying a moment of peace, a calm between the storms. I’m on a plane headed to Colorado to visit friends before we roll out. Life has been crazy lately. And not the fun kind of crazy. The kind of crazy that makes you crave a xanax. So many moving parts, I’ve been struggling just to keep up. There’s so much that needs to be accomplished, loose ends to tie up before we leave. I feel I’m checking off items of a never ending to-do list. I’m exhausted and we haven’t even started. Where time initially seemed to crawl, now I feel myself wishing for more hours in the day, more days in the week.
I’ve left two jobs in one week. That’s a lot of goodbyes. We’ve also accepted an offer on the house, a HUGE relief, but with that the realization that it is no longer our home. Friends and family have flown into Houston for one last goodbye before we leave. It’s nice to know there are people that will fly halfway across the country to see you off. But there’s also a sad feeling of finality with these goodbyes. When will I see you again?
This experience is emotionally confusing. At any given moment, I’m excited, sad or totally FREAKED OUT.
I understand why people stay where they are. It’s easier than leaving. We’re not having second thoughts. It’s just, at times, the changes are overwhelming and the uncertainty is terrifying. We’re leaving a nice, comfortable life. We have little idea what we are exchanging that for.