This week has been extra-specially rough on my emotional state for many reasons, one of which is the expiration date of my time in this house.
I hadn’t cried about it yet until last night.
Last night the tears came.
Last night I said the words out loud, “I hope I made the right decision,” but it’s not just one decision. It’s so many decisions. About this house, about my intermediate plans, about my job, and about what I want from my life.
There’s a lot of turmoil involved in all of this – with the move, and the job, and even some other stuff I don’t care to share at this time.
But there’s a lot of change. A lot of transition. A lot of insecure footing. I’m the author of my story, and I’m closing up a pivotal chapter without any idea how the next chapter begins.
But there is a difference between this time and the last time I was in a similar situation.
Last night I drew a parallel between my transformation and the transformation of this house into my home three and a half years ago. “I feel like I was born here,” I said. In a way, I was. This version of me. Phi-is-me and everything she’s accomplished…
I could die tomorrow knowing that my existence made a difference beyond what I can even imagine.
So, as insecure as my footing may be, and as terrified as I am about moving back in with my parents for an undetermined amount of time, I still know I’ll get through it. I know I’ll survive it. I know I’ll emerge from all of this strain to find myself in a better place than I was in before. Maybe not right away, but eventually.
I struggle with this next part because I know if I lay my problems side by side with other people’s problems…my shit is inconsequential.
But for right now….
In this very moment….
I need it to be okay to admit that there’s a knot inside my chest and a slight emotional paralysis and I’m very, very scared.