I’m an emotional wreck. I’m always an emotional wreck, but this time crosses the line on emotional wreckage. I’m experiencing the sort of emotional wreckage you scrape off the pavement with a spatula.
We’re moving to San Francisco. At least for a while.
The past several days, I have gone from completely and totally excited to acting as if someone died in 30 seconds flat. It’s nearly absurd. (Damn chemicals). While I’m excited about being able to see red woods, it’s kicking my butt the idea of picking up and moving 3000 or whatever number of miles away from here. I wish I could assure to my father that it’s not his fault for moving us all over the eastern seaboard all our lives, that people move these days, that some folks just like to wander.
(I love my family. I have always been very close to my family. I love them with all my heart. They must know this.)
Why is moving so hard for me? It’s always been hard for me. Why can’t I see this as the best, most exciting adventure possible? Instead, I do that for a while, then I think things like what if something happens to someone in my family? What if I’m too far away to get back in time? What if Ryan is lonely? What if Missy and I lose touch? What if I never see Soung again? What if what if whatifwhatifwhatif?
What if my cats die on the airplane? Or worse, what if I drive them out there and they run away and die in the desert from dehydration or get run over by a camel? That would be terrible. Does anyone want a cat for a while?
I want so badly to know and predict the future. I want to know that this won’t render me a blubbering idiot with puffy eyes for the next month.
I want everyone to live forever, and near me. I want to invite them all with me. How much does that cost?
I’m excited. I am. The idea of seeing HUGE trees excites me. I’ll be near Crater Lake, something I have dreamt about seeing over and over again. We’ll bring back wine and take pictures of amazing scenery. I’ll see Reno finally, Death Valley, and cliffy coastlines.
I might experience another earthquake. (And this time actually realize it’s happening).
I want Toby to understand that I’m just like this. It’s not forever, but I’ll be up and down for a while. I will and have gone from jumping up and down with excitement to crying when my cat sneezes.
I think it was Tom Petty who said
The waiting is the hardest part.
(And doesn’t he live there?)
See? I’m all out of whack. Is valium over the counter yet?
But honestly, I am excited. Upon rereading this, I realize I sound totally devastated. Who could be? What a great opportunity.
(Everyone tell Toby I’ll be fine.)