Okay, now that I’ve got you thoroughly confused, let me back up a bit and tell you that we finally found an apartment, and we signed the paperwork and made the deposit on the 20th. I have to admit that I’m excited as hell that we’re going to have our own space again, and that I’ll be able to cook or take a bath at 2AM if I want.
The terrifying thing is taking on so much responsibility. The rent is going to be a healthy chunk more than we’re paying here, and utilities won’t be included. Living here has been very light on responsibilities, all I had to do was make sure the rent got paid and cook dinner a few times a week; but now I’ll have to make sure there’s money in the bank when it’s time to pay rent, and make sure the utilities get paid on time.
If I forget to buy coffee, I won’t just be able to run upstairs and borrow enough to make it to the next day, I’ll either have to do without or drag my happy ass to the store and get some. I feel kind of like I did when I left my ex and got my own place for the first time in my life . . . What if I can’t do this? What if I fail? What if I really CAN’T make the money we have cover the bills and food, and all of the other necessary bits and pieces? What if one of us loses their job (again?)
I can DO this, I know I can, but it’s still terrifying . . .it’s such a huge responsibility, and the only fall-back plan is my writing. That’s scary enough all by itself. I love writing, but it has it’s own set of “what ifs” that come with it. What if I’m wrong about being able to be more productive in my own space, where I can get away from the tv? What if spending almost 3 hours a day on public transportation to get back and forth to work triggers the fibromyalgia even worse than walking does; and I’m too tired, or in too much pain, to be able to write, even on my days off? What if I transfer to a store closer to the apartment so I have more time to write; and hate the people I work with, or don’t get enough hours to pay the rent on? Can I really make enough money writing to make this work?
Am I really going to be able to keep hubby from spending every penny on stuff we can live without, or stuff we could get cheaper? Will I let him talk me into things just because it’s easier than arguing with him about it?
Change is scary. It always is, and always has been. I can make this work, things are going to be better. I know they are, but every now and then the fear just slams into me like a wave crashing against the shore, sweeping me out into that undertow, and sucking me down into that dark place that’s full of doubts and insecurity again. I know that place, too well. I used to spend my whole life there, doubting my ability to manage in any kind of reasonable way, and at times like this it’s easy for the fear to drag me back there.
There’s a big difference now though. The fear may drag me down, but it can’t hold me there any more. Even when it’s dragging at me, I’m already fighting my way back out. A few years ago, the fear would have immobilized me. It would have sucked me into the dark place, and I would have been helpless to resist it. I would have been trapped there until someone helped me back out, but this time, I can feel myself fighting it.
Like Penelope Garcia, I believe things happen for a reason. Things have changed here because it’s time for me to move on. This place, these people, have been like a family to me; giving me the time and space I needed to learn and grow. Now, to continue growing, I need to be in a place where I have to push a bit harder, where I can’t just do the minimum necessary to survive at this level. I need to be in a place where there are more demands, where there is more incentive to focus on the things I WANT to accomplish. It’s time to stop letting myself drift along on the current of “how it is,” and start swimming harder toward “how I want it to be.”
It’s not going to be easy, and I’m going to have to do a lot of things I absolutely HATE to do (like making decisions and organizing things,) but I CAN do this. Not only can I survive starting over, yet again; but I can thrive. This is going to work. It’s going to be exciting, and terrifying; but no matter how many times life knocks me on my ass, I’m going to get back up and keep going.
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