"mostly we've been living here uninjured"

[omnia_mutantur]

I feel permanently poised on the brink of a paralyzing anxiety attack. I'm not seeking medication or therapy to deal with this, and instead lie awake listening to my heartbeat accelerate and trying to find stories to tell myself about what the next chunk of happily-ever-right-now looks like. Change is somewhere on the horizon, and not the gradual seachange of growing older and even better together, but the more drastic changing of entire lifestyles (which sounds weirdly to me like I'm equating relocating with giving birth, but I don't really feel like exploring that metaphor so I'll forge blindly ahead).

We're hoping to move to Boston, mostly to find Light a job he likes better, but also to be closer to Junkyard and B and eventually Mech, and also to find ourselves another rhythm in which to live. We talk, occasionally, about me not working, taking time to find a job, figuring out what I might enjoy doing, and I've never had that luxury before, never had the savings or the stability not to just jump upon whatever offered me enough money for rent and student loans. And I've stagnated here at the hospital, becoming very good at doing all the things that no one else wants to or can do, but it's certainly neither enjoyable nor fulfilling. And I know that years from now, if I look back upon things I regret not having done, it's certainly not going to be not having worked at this particular hospital even longer.

I've been at my current place of employment since August of 2001. Secretly, I think I keep expecting to get rewarded for loyalty, and while some (my boss) might argue minuscule raises and everincreasing responsibility, I feel pretty unrewarded. But I also feel like I'm supposed to stay loyal, spend the rest of my life being miserable here in the basement of a dirty building, stifling both the tears and the rage, because no one else will ever hire me and I should be grateful that the hospital did. Which is a bit of a hurdle to jump both when trying to imagine giving notice (because I gloss it as a betrayal and a failure on my part) and trying to imagine what I want to do next.

So far in my life, I've been best at finding the most comfortable compromise between a number of bad choices, so having an wide open world terrifies, but any words I might use to talk about that terror sound self-indulgent and whiny. Poor me, to have so much freedom. But the things that are happening aren't the sort I have the language or experience for, selling a house, buying another house, moving all our stuff, reorganizing our finances.

I also am having possession-anxiety, wherein I adore my stuff but somehow the fact I can't throw it all in a junker car means that I've either abandoned some important, unnamed ideal and/or become stodgy. That said, I am also deeply appreciative of the fact that I am now of an age/income where it's feasible to hire movers rather than have my husband throw his back out again.

And this doesn't even begin to address the oft-repeated trope of will I figure out how be sane when all the day-to-day changes.



So, yeah. Change.

Comments

[lilithchilde.livejournal.com]

Change is so bloody complicated. I haven't even gotten to the point where I'm dealing with all those tiny details, but thinking about them is kind of overwhelming.

It's going to be so good, though. It's no good being trapped in a basement--at least, that's certainly my conclusion, after this last year.

[kayselkiemoon.livejournal.com]

I'll also chime in on the not-goodness of basements as a workplace. I haven't been through it, but it's my experience that spending long, regular periods of time in a room with little to no sunlight (as basements generally are) is no good for morale. plus (although this is prolly a pyschosomatic thing) for some reason I always get this feeling of heaviness when I'm in a room under ground-level. bleh.

change is hard. the two major periods of change in my life have been from highschool into college, and from senior year college into post college, and both of them had me pretty much crash&burning. *sigh* if you have the resources and feel able to sit back and reflect on what path you might like to try, I really recommend it. that's part of what I've been doing, and it's sort of like (the inevitable similes) pulling over on an island to figure out what's up with the boat instead of frantically plugging holes and bailing. in any event, I'll send good thoughts your way.

[omnia-mutantur.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I had similar crash-and-burns at similar points, and while I know that all these years later, change isn't going to make me collapse, it's hard to take that intellectual knowledge and transfer it into that feels real.

[isquiesque.livejournal.com]

Good luck, wherever the path you and Light are on takes you.

[omnia-mutantur.livejournal.com]

thank you for your wellwishes.

[electrolite37.livejournal.com]

I also am having possession-anxiety, wherein I adore my stuff but somehow the fact I can't throw it all in a junker car means that I've either abandoned some important, unnamed ideal and/or become stodgy.

Not stodgy, experienced. You've lived life and collected more bits and pieces on the way. I also say this because some of the most excellent people I've met (especially some profs) couldn't fit all their books into a junker car, let alone all their stuff.

As to the day-to-day changes, you'll be fine. It'll be hard at first (as you well know), but one day you'll realize that you can't imagine your routine any other way. Breathing is key. Also having people to go "BHALALAHAHOioetgt4eu08u0t80t4807=2`r" at helps as well, or at least it did when I found myself in London and then in Portland.