I’ve lived a lot in my 34 years. I’ve been a Brooklyn girl, a Manhattanite, an Austin Texan. I’ve lived in countries all over the world and traveled to exotic places just to write about them. This isn’t my first time ’round the block.
But this move to Nashville feels important, like I am cutting the strings that have kept me upright. I am going out alone – moving my arms, legs, turning my head to my own accord.
It is scary as shit.
The last time I ventured out like this I was unwell. I have to remind myself of that. I am stronger now. I have more tools. I know how to stay away from the rabbit hole. But the last time – California – ended horribly and I simply cannot endure that again nor can I put my family and friends through that again.
I have to succeed, in the simplest meaning of the word – I have to survive.
It’s been crazy for me the past couple of days. I found out I am moving this weekend, a little jump from when I was thinking I was going, but that is okay. It is time. No more ex-boyfriend. No more Virginia. No more North Carolina. It is time to stand on my own two feet. Though I have been waiting for this day to come for months, I am scared. Who will be there to catch me if I fall?
I plan on trying to find a support group and I have a therapist and psychiatrist (even if only temporary) in place with appointments on my little calendar.
Remember your “tools” when you are going through trying situations – deep breathing, visualization, reaching out to friends, journaling, the “STOP” sign, “put it on the shelf.” I am using all of these along with my prescribed medication and massive need of sleep. I can hardly wait for a month from now to come and be sitting in a cafe in Nashville writing about how life is turning out. It is going to be good.
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