Monday, August 3, 2015

CA --->MO (eyeroll)

*I wrote this on the drive to Missouri from California a year and a half ago. I didn't post it because I thought I was being preemptively defensive, but it turns out I was right on point. 

Please don't be offended by my attempt at releasing this. After all, I have just uprooted my whole life and have earned the right to emote a bit (or a lot). I've discontinued other attempts at processing feelings because of snarky comments and absurd reactions so if you can't understand that this is not about you or are offended easily, please keep scrolling.
We are 45 miles away from being halfway to Missouri and the closer we get, the more I literally feel sick to my stomach. I have no idea what's waiting for us there yet, I know exactly. 
The comfort of being from a small town and living in a big city is that it doesn't matter how long you are gone, it's always perfectly encapsulated, exactly as you left it. Every visit is predictable and planned. You get a wonderful dose of all the pieces you love and then hop a plane back to regular life and all is well.
I am very obviously struggling with the decision to move back home and am now convinced that I agreed to it during a particularly rough week as a stay-at-home mommy. The thought of having my mom to help and friends who know what I'm going through was just enticing enough for me to believe it was a good idea. Now that it's reality and I've said all the painful goodbyes, I am flooded with anxiety over the unknown, in a place with which I am so very familiar. Honestly, I can't decide if I'm scared of where I'm going or of what I've left behind. 
San Diego is ever changing. People come and go as quickly as the tide and you can never be sure that what exists today will still be there tomorrow. San Diego is flighty and I am addicted to that part of it. I abhor scheduled routines and predictability. It makes me feel stale and well, predictable. So while that made San Diego a perfect place for me to thrive, I am heartbroken that the San Diego that we just left will never exist again. 
My life became entwined in with those of three amazing women in San Diego. Each of them have saved me somehow and each of them have provided me with support and understanding far beyond what anyone could or should expect of a friendship. I am quite different from each of them in many ways, but what we all have in common is that we have no clue where we will end up in this life, we aren't afraid to take risks regardless of judgement, and no matter what- we will never ever be on time to anything ever ever. I love all of these things about us, but it is all of these things that mean that we will never exist in the same place again. Eventually, I will have to plan separate vacations to see each of them which will make our visits few and far. This seriously kills me. Not to say I don't have some seriously fabulous friends to go home to that I have missed so so much. (Edit: 2 or 3 supportive friends and a whole lot of haters.) I do, but to put it simply, what if they don't like me anymore? I know that sounds silly but a few hours together during random visits hardly count as solid quality time and that's all we've had for ten years. Will my crunchy Californianess separate me as a crazy tree hugging hippy? Which I'm not at all, but by Midwestern standards I might as well literally hug trees and then tie myself to them in protest. Will my 'just put some breast milk on it' and 'there's an oil for that' mentality make us THAT family? I hope not. I'd hope and maybe even just assume that we will all just continue on where we left off? Perhaps they will roll their eyes at my granola-ish lifestyle but accept and support it anyway. MAYBE some are even on the same path we are on, towards a more mindful and natural lifestyle and we can learn and evolve together. Maybe. I guess we will know soon enough. We will be there in two hours.

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