Tag Archives: moving

Jiggity-Jig.

I travelled back to Chicago this weekend. It was a quick trip – equal parts business and pleasure, colleagues and family, alcohol and water, comfortable and strange.

Yesterday provided me plenty of time (2+ hours in the airport, 4+ hours on planes) to mull over recent events. For as happy as I was to be “home,” I could not wait to be back in Carolina. As I waited to get off my final plane and into the arms of my cute husband/chauffeur, my seatmate asked where I was headed. “Nowhere. I’m home now,” I hastily replied, anxious to grab my bag and go.

And then it hit me. It was so natural to say I was home, even though there are plenty of times when it doesn’t feel that way.

As the clock ticked past midnight, I couldn’t wait to get into my apartment, where my dogs, my bed, my carefully-hunted antiques and hot-pink pillows awaited me…where my suitcases full of clothes are still awaiting to be unpacked from the move…where I was sure to find a sink full of dirty dishes and an empty fridge…my hallmarks of home.

I answered the questions “How do you like South Carolina?” and “How is your husband doing?” a lot the past few days. And the answers were always the same…”Better than I thought I would,” and “Beat up, but still making progress.” And I guess therein lies the truth in the whole situation. We’re beat up — him physically, and me emotionally, but we’re better than we thought we would be. It’s an adventure, and we’re really digging writing this new chapter.

My mom made a comment to me yesterday…something along the lines of, “You seem to really be making the most out of this whole thing.” And I am. Or at least I’m trying really hard. Sometimes, I think that’s all that’s needed to convince yourself that things are good.

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On the Road

Technology is amazing, isn’t it? I sit here writing to you all from somewhere in Indiana, en route to my new home. By the time I’m done writing, we’ll be closer to Kentucky.

This just does not feel real. Have 6 months really passed?

Every bump and jolt of the vehicle reminds me that I am indeed on my way to a new life. It sounds dramatic, I know, but it’s true…very few things are the same now. New apartment, new surroundings, new way of living (just found out I’m allergic to gluten), new job (same company, thankfully!). So what’s the same?

You.

My family, my friends, my work wife, my coworkers…you’re still all here for me, encouraging and supporting this dream, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

I cried yesterday…a lot. It’s not easy to make me cry, but I just couldn’t stop the past few days…waving goodbye to my friends and colleagues, getting those tight squeezes from my nieces, the card from my goddaughter that tells me how sad she is that I’m leaving, breaking down when my mother in law asks me how I’m doing, kissing my grandmother goodbye for the very last time…

(And now I’m crying again.)

No amount of excitement can temper the sadness that I’m feeling. Even the fact that I’m returning in the next few weeks doesn’t help.

Please keep my parents and I in your thoughts for a safe and uneventful journey. I will report back in better spirits in Carolina!

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Carolina in My Mind.

Well, I believe the proverbial cat is out of the bag…

I am not moving to California.

{I’ll just let that sink in for a moment.}

So, here’s the story. I was in California a few weeks ago to find an apartment. On Monday, Tom and I found the perfect apartment. It was across the street from our new favorite microbrewery, had granite countertops, a fireplace, and was even $100 under budget. And on Tuesday, I flew back to Chicago. Tuesday evening, the following text conversation transpired between my husband and I.

“We need to talk. There’s some big stuff going down.”

“Wow. That’s never good. With who?”

“With what, you mean. The team.”

“What about the team? Wait, let me guess…Murphy’s Law. We just found our apartment, so that means the team is moving right? LOL.”

“…”

“Seriously?”

And that, folks, is how my life turned upside down in 30 seconds. I don’t have the time or energy to go into the politics of the move, but what I can/will say is that this has the potential to be a very good opportunity for us. We’ll be settling in South Carolina, near Charlotte, NC. This move really allows Tom the ability to concentrate 100% on training and not feel the pull of working another job. Luckily, I can pick up and work from wherever I have an internet connection and a phone, so other than the timezone, the “move” really isn’t inconvenient.

But, I am sad to not be moving to California. I was really, really looking forward to it. I had already found {and met, and loved!} a writing group out there, I had found an alumni organization to join…it seemed that everything was falling into place.

And then just as the glitter settled, dusting our eyelashes and shoulders, everything was shook up. Not only could we not talk about this {huge, mega} change in our lives, we had days to figure out where we were going to live and how we were going to get there. We wrestled with how and when to tell our family and friends, while still keeping quiet like we were asked. While I pored over rental listings and online photos trying to find something that didn’t remind me of a scene from Slumdog Millionaire, Tom began to quietly contemplate severing ties with the new alliances, clients, and teams he had lifted with, worked with, and coached. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became.

I’m going to be a Yank. I’m not going to be any good in the South. I’m probably going to hate it. There’s nothing for me out there. From big, beautiful, thriving San Francisco to a small town in South Carolina…I don’t even like sweet tea.

It’s all been an adjustment, and a really hard one at that. Maybe even harder than the initial “Oh my gosh, I’m moving far away!” I don’t do change well, and that might be a slight understatement. I also don’t do well in situations where I have a decided lack of control. And with this…not knowing the area, not knowing when Tom will move, not knowing when I could or should move, partially as a result of the very sad, hard situation with my Grandmother…it’s just all been really, really tough.

So our adventure takes another {U}turn. We’re turning our moving truck East, learning how to make sweet tea, and trying to build the future American record holder. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to love the South and get a novel or two published.

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Snakeskin.

With the advent of a personal audience, I think it’s worth noting a few things about myself, my husband, and this blog.

Yes, it’s heavy. Yes, it’s a little crazy. Yes, sometimes even I can’t believe I’ve just shared certain things with the Interwebs.

But here’s the thing: these are the thoughts that are breeding in my brain on a daily basis, and I can’t shut that off, no matter how hard I try. I pride myself on integrity and honesty. A liar, I am not. I don’t believe that I’m being dishonest by not always sharing the dark thoughts that hide in the shadows of my life. Sometimes it’s self-preservation. Sometimes it’s the fear of being judged. For the most part, I am an optimistic person. I look for the best in life, I have high expectations of myself and others, and I know that as cliché as it is, a good attitude makes a world of difference in untoward circumstances.

I really am very much looking forward to this move, and very, very much to reuniting with my husband on a permanent basis. It’s not an ideal situation, obviously, but right now, it’s what we need to do to give this experience a shot. And honestly, I’m about to say something shocking. I don’t know if it would be a good idea for us to be living together right now.

My husband and I have been a unit for almost nine years. We are always learning about each other and growing, but for the most part, we can accurately predict each other’s thoughts and reactions to any given situation. {Yes, we’re one of those annoying couples.} I know that if we were together right now, he’d be worried about how I was adjusting and not enough about himself and his training. And I’d be so worried that he wasn’t focused on training, and that he was squandering his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. {We’d be really good at the Newlyweds game.}

But now he can focus completely on training and immersing himself into the world of professional athletics. {Which, by the way, is as crazy as every sitcom and reality show makes it look.} He can rest assured knowing that despite the challenges that our living situation brings, I am home, safely, with my family and friends. And I can commit myself to a difficult situation, ultimately knowing its impermanence, because it truly is for the greater good of this opportunity. It’s not every day that your husband gets a phone call inviting him to train for the Olympics in a sport he’s never competed in before. And it’s certainly not every day that this phone call also offers a paycheck, the country’s best coach, and teammates that are the best both inside and outside the gym. It’s enough to make me consider using the word miraculous.

It’s also really, really strange. Why us? Why him? Why now? Just when we thought our life was headed due North, the road winds and we find ourselves completely turned around. After fighting through the tough economy when jobs were scarce, my husband was finally staring down three full-time offers, all in positions that he would have loved. The decision was going to come down to money and commuting time. And then the phone rang and everything changed. Three months ago, I sat in my home, the first place that we shared together. The house that was adorned with our wedding pictures, a chunk of coral from the snorkeling trip on our honeymoon, the wine collection we’ve painstakingly built from our travels. Tonight, I write from the four-poster twin bed that I used as a child, ambling about in a home where I feel as equally comfortable as uncomfortable.

It’s hard to put into words what a tailspin the last few months have been. Up feels like down, right feels like left, inside is colder than outside. And not in a bad way, not at all. We are most certainly blessed. I am lucky. He is exceptional. But we are also processing. The next few months might be ugly. We’ll be shedding our skin just like we shed almost half of our worldly possessions. And so, my words might be scary, but I write them in the hopes that I can leave them here and wriggle away into the sunshine, feeling the warmth of miracles and hard work shining upon my fresh new skin.

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