These last two weekends, I have gone into "holy shit we're moving away so I need to do all the things" mode. First, I took a solo trip to Boston to spend the night with my brother and sister in law, and second, a trip to New Hampshire to spend some time alone with my dad (a.k.a The Dadster). Both trips were refreshing in their own way, especially when you have two kids and three dogs at home; it was a rare treat to only have myself to take care of for the first time since becoming a mother. No emergency snacks to pack for the endlessly hungry Hannah, no cringe-worthy body talks with Lyla, no massive dog crates to pack up or #2's to clean up - just me, the music I chose for the drive, the snacks I didn't have to share, and the uninterrupted conversations that actually got completed. It was time cherished, especially with those views from the mountain top, but as much as I enjoyed the rare alone time, I couldn't wait to get back to my family, which I realized was the best part about getting away.
It was easy to go to bed alone, without any bedtime routines or dogs to let out, but I didn't prefer it. I missed how many things the girls would rattle off as I tucked them in, as if we would never speak again. I missed climbing into bed with my husband, taking forever to decide which show to put on, only for us to fall asleep within minutes. I missed warm cheek kisses in the morning and smoothing out little bed heads. I missed the kiss I get on the shoulder before sunrise when my husband gets out of bed before me. I missed it all, which actually made me feel really good. I could recognize how different and often easier things could be without a marriage to nurture or children to raise, and yet I'd take the difficulties of daily life over not having that life any day.
In a way, I was relieved to feel that I truly loved my life; that I didn't regret having children or getting married young once I got a taste of freedom for the first time in 10 years. There was a part of me that feared different feelings once I could step away and take a deep breath, that I would wish to be able to do things like that more, that I would envy a different life, but no freaking way. My husband and I missed each other as if we were newly dating and counting down the hours until we could kiss again. My kiddos would FaceTime each day and text throughout to keep me updated on their activities and "miss you" moments. I believe part of what made my time away so great what knowing what I had to come home to.
So, I guess the whole point of this post was to surrender to a cliche: home is not where your house is, but where your heart is. I thought I would feel waves of depression coming home to Massachusetts when we thought we would be settled in North Carolina by now, when really, the location didn't matter because it's where my family was waiting for me. Through the frustrations of recent renovations, the struggle to sell our house, the inability to plan, and, really, a lack of control, coming home showed me that we can wade through the moving bullshit and still be happy now. There was nothing like those big hugs and wet kisses I got when I pulled up to the curb, or that one of a kind hug that's tailored just for me, making me feel so safe and loved - I will have that wherever we are, and that's what coming home is.
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
Embracing Change
Throughout my childhood, I didn't experience an exuberant amount of change. I lived in the same childhood home until I was 19 and moved into my first apartment. My parents didn't divorce until I was 16, leaving all holiday traditions, family gatherings, and yearly vacations in tact. There were no sudden deaths, no wild illnesses, no major house renovations, no change in careers for my parents...just a life of consistency and stability for this girl. Most parents strive for this life style for their children, always pleading that "children need stability", but I found that it set me up for failure when it came to change.
First, it was minor things, like my best friend's parents renovating parts of their home; with every rug torn up I mourned over my memories of rolling around on it, for every piece of furniture replaced I remembered the crazy amounts of peanut butter MnM's shared on it - it was a little ridiculous, and not even my house!
Then, naturally, changes became bigger. Motherhood, marriage, moving away from home - big changes that, yes, warrant tears and some struggle, but I was still effected by the lesser changes, like when my husband would switch shifts at work; the thought of changing my work, exercise, and kiddo routines always sent me into a fit of bitter tears. Recently, when my father moved from Worcester to New Hampshire, I became what I believe to be a bit depressed after he sold my childhood home. I would climb right into bed after work, and allow those childish crocodile tears to slide down my face while I snuggled my daughters and convulsed over memory after memory. And of course, there was then the added change of my father being nearly 4 hours away; no more popping in for lunch, no more day trips to swim in the pool, no more inviting all my high school friends over for a visit when we were in town. That change was a rough one.
It was rough, anyway, until I realized that this change played a big role in my ability to put my big girl pants on and actually embrace change. I was able to see that, although we saw my dad less often, our time together when we did visit was cherished much more. Quick lunches turned into weekend hiking trips, afternoons spent swimming turned into lake side fishing, and quick catch-up chats became more in depth conversations. I was devastated, and yet, I was okay. Knowing I was okay after such a big change made me feel strong, and aided in my willingness to move to North Carolina when the opportunity came our way.
Now, instead of fearing change, I am looking forward to it, because what is change other than an opportunity to learn, grow, and discover more about yourself? I am not naive enough to think this move will be easy; we will miss our family, friends, familiarity, clients, and so forth like crazy. We will struggle with feelings of loneliness, we will question ourselves, we will have doubts. And yet, I'm looking forward to the struggle. I can't wait to see what it's like to only have my husband and kids in my corner, and see how we deal with the balance of our own needs while also being there for one another. After 30 years of living close to family, I can't wait to see how our relationships grow fonder with distance, and our time together more be cherished on visits. I can't wait to discover strengths we never knew we had, to see our ability to overcome something so difficult, to show our children that anything is possible, and to strengthen the bond with my husband and daughters.
My hope for myself as we get closer to the big move is to appreciate what I have right here, right now, and to not look back once we are settled 15 hours away. I hope to be able to engulf myself in all the feels such a big change can create; I want to feel the sadness, I want to feel the nerves, I want to feel the fear and the anxiety and the worry, because sitting with those feelings and truly allowing myself to have them will only make those better feelings of excitement, hope, and dream chasing all the more enticing. My hope for my girls is that this move will teach them that despite where they grew up, despite where your family resides, despite the hardships big change can bring, that they can be anywhere they dream of being. I look forward to showing them that yes, this will be hard, but yes, we will be okay. Because, after all, change is inevitable, and that's life.
First, it was minor things, like my best friend's parents renovating parts of their home; with every rug torn up I mourned over my memories of rolling around on it, for every piece of furniture replaced I remembered the crazy amounts of peanut butter MnM's shared on it - it was a little ridiculous, and not even my house!
Then, naturally, changes became bigger. Motherhood, marriage, moving away from home - big changes that, yes, warrant tears and some struggle, but I was still effected by the lesser changes, like when my husband would switch shifts at work; the thought of changing my work, exercise, and kiddo routines always sent me into a fit of bitter tears. Recently, when my father moved from Worcester to New Hampshire, I became what I believe to be a bit depressed after he sold my childhood home. I would climb right into bed after work, and allow those childish crocodile tears to slide down my face while I snuggled my daughters and convulsed over memory after memory. And of course, there was then the added change of my father being nearly 4 hours away; no more popping in for lunch, no more day trips to swim in the pool, no more inviting all my high school friends over for a visit when we were in town. That change was a rough one.
It was rough, anyway, until I realized that this change played a big role in my ability to put my big girl pants on and actually embrace change. I was able to see that, although we saw my dad less often, our time together when we did visit was cherished much more. Quick lunches turned into weekend hiking trips, afternoons spent swimming turned into lake side fishing, and quick catch-up chats became more in depth conversations. I was devastated, and yet, I was okay. Knowing I was okay after such a big change made me feel strong, and aided in my willingness to move to North Carolina when the opportunity came our way.
Now, instead of fearing change, I am looking forward to it, because what is change other than an opportunity to learn, grow, and discover more about yourself? I am not naive enough to think this move will be easy; we will miss our family, friends, familiarity, clients, and so forth like crazy. We will struggle with feelings of loneliness, we will question ourselves, we will have doubts. And yet, I'm looking forward to the struggle. I can't wait to see what it's like to only have my husband and kids in my corner, and see how we deal with the balance of our own needs while also being there for one another. After 30 years of living close to family, I can't wait to see how our relationships grow fonder with distance, and our time together more be cherished on visits. I can't wait to discover strengths we never knew we had, to see our ability to overcome something so difficult, to show our children that anything is possible, and to strengthen the bond with my husband and daughters.
My hope for myself as we get closer to the big move is to appreciate what I have right here, right now, and to not look back once we are settled 15 hours away. I hope to be able to engulf myself in all the feels such a big change can create; I want to feel the sadness, I want to feel the nerves, I want to feel the fear and the anxiety and the worry, because sitting with those feelings and truly allowing myself to have them will only make those better feelings of excitement, hope, and dream chasing all the more enticing. My hope for my girls is that this move will teach them that despite where they grew up, despite where your family resides, despite the hardships big change can bring, that they can be anywhere they dream of being. I look forward to showing them that yes, this will be hard, but yes, we will be okay. Because, after all, change is inevitable, and that's life.
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