This time next week most of my life will be in boxes. And I couldn't be happier. Life will be out of control, but really, compared to what I've lived through since the 31st of May, when I broke up my 13 year relationship, I can handle not knowing which box has my shampoo in it or exactly where a clean pair of undies might be located. There is no handbook for these sorts of things, and especially as each person in the relationship breakdown is unique. Who's to know how you'll react, until you are in that moment. I've tried as best I could to be fair and reasonable and understanding and considerate in this hurtful situation. But at the end of the day, simply being at 'home' is causing pain. I can see it. Especially when I look in the mirror.
However, each coin has two sides, and the other story arc in my life is amazing. For I am not moving alone. Peter, who promised to catch me if I jumped, has kept true to his word and not only tried to hold my hand understandingly and supportively through the last couple of months, but is now leaping with me. With no doubts and with both feet. Still grasping my hand tightly. I am jumping further into the unknown, however I have this amazing sense of calm when it comes to him. I can feel that this is right. I know it. And as I've said before - life is now an adventure taking me into places unchartered. I've either wandered off the path I was on, or perhaps I've finally found the path I was supposed to be on all along.
I am counting down the days until I move, and with each day ending there is one less moment of anxiety and awkwardness to live through. What will be interesting though is how I react. Moving always makes me emotional, even when I'm going somewhere better. Just the fact I feel dislocated and uprooted, has a profound effect on me. Tears and plenty of them. I know in a sense that this is coming, as it always has every time I've moved. But this time is something quite different. Peter pointed out that once I stand still, I'm likely to think about what I have walked away from, and the grieving for the end of 13 years may well begin. I have felt for months that I have been running. Running to keep ahead of the words yelled at me, ahead of the pain I've caused, ahead of my own emotions. But the running is slowing and soon I will be still. Able to exhale and live completely in the moment again. And the pain will catch up. I have felt it clipping at my heels for a couple of weeks now.
I am tired of running, and the effect it has had on me. I needed to do it to get through those awful moments, but I now need to be still. I need to see my life in 360 degrees and not just focus forward. I have to see the last 39 years, and understand what has brought me to this point, to be able to take the next step forward. I have to look honestly at myself and the mistakes I've made and try to learn from them. And I can't do that while I'm running.
There are still difficult times ahead, and issues I must face. Changes I must make. History must stop repeating itself. Patterns must be broken. And at 39 I feel that perhaps finally I am at the right time in my life to do this. And as luck would have it, I have also found the right person to give me the freedom and support to work through things. I have bought my ticket for the rollercoaster, finally fit the height requirement and am about to strap myself in for the ride. Counting down.....three, two, one......