I’m moving away from my hometown
And I’m panicking and starting to second guess myself. I just wanted to try something different, do something different, but now I’m TERRIFIED that I’m making a poor choice. Because this isn’t a pretty move. It’s nothing like the rose tinted coming of age movies or the practical next step after completing a degree program. This is a desperate soul move more than anything. It’s a driving 8 hours out of stare with $300 to my name, a box of clothes, no degree, a car note and insurance hovering over me that I have to figure out how to pay because my car may be my home for a while type of move. The alternative was death in one way or another though, be it mentally or physically. How would you choose between death and fear? So I chose. And I’m scared. And my anxiety is flaring. But even in all of that there is this sliver of hope. And THAT is why I’m so terrified. Because more than anything in my life, hope... or rather the loss of it, has hurt me the most.
But I want to leave. I want to live. I want to learn. And most of all, I want to write. So I’ll be afraid for now. And I’ll cry. And I’ll scream. And I’ll shout. Then, when I’m empty, I hope I can rejoice.
I managed to calm down then the panic came back WORSE 😭
I did it. I moved. With the fear. With the doubt. With the skeleton of a plan. And it worked. I’m here. I’m fine. I’m free.