Dear Diary

I started this blog with the hope that I would put very little filter on what I write, even though I know people will read it - most who know me - and maybe judge, or worry, or ask questions, or think things about me that make me uncomfortable. It's worked out well so far but sometimes I think of great things to write about that I don't write because it's not anonymous and I don't want anyone to judge, worry, ask questions, or think things about me that make me uncomfortable. I know I care too much what other people think, and I'm working on that, and a lot of other stuff too, but it is what it is.

So, I really want to write that I'm confused about our impending move to New York. I'm thankful to several amazingly patient and wonderful friends for talking me through a lot of it with me because they know who I am and what my issues are and how I need to talk through almost every decision I make, even when the decision has already been made...and they love me anyway. And let it be all about me, when really it shouldn't be as much about me as it sometimes feels like it is.

Everyone thinks this decision has already been made, everyone except me. We've made an offer, it's been accepted, we're just waiting on the contracts to sign. We've put our place on the market, it's received an offer, I think we're in the middle of negotiations. We've told everyone we're moving. The only thing that's uncertain is my brain. My heart. I hate uncertainty. I'm still waiting for my Gut to tell me what to do. But it won't say anything, or maybe it is talking, but it's being muffled, strangled even, by anxieties like Mr. Prepared For Financial Ruin, Ms. Your Kid Needs a Yard, Mrs. You'll Never Find Friends Like These Again, and my personal favorite, Mr. If You Change Your Mind Later You're A Failure.

Please, I know these are all anxieties that can be rationalized away, and in all likelihood you have already had a conversation with me to tell me it's going to be okay, and better than that, that it's going to be great. You've reminded me that New York is the dream I've always had for myself and my family...that New York is WHO I AM. You've told me that you'll miss me, but really, I should go.

Why then, doesn't it just feel RIGHT?

Or is it like one of you confirmed for me yesterday, that I'm going through the stages of grief? Shock and Denial have recently passed, making room for stages 2 (Pain/Guilt), 3 (Anger/Bargaining), and 4(Depression/Reflection/Loneliness) all at once. Can you imagine how tortuous this is for B - who just woke up one day and decided this would be a good idea and hasn't looked back? I know some of you can imagine, because you know just how tortuous I can be. Sorry, B.

So, here's the question: Does it make sense to be going through the stages of grief for something I really want to do?

And, here's the second question: Will one of you just call B tomorrow and pretend to be some big fancy firm that's going to pay him a ridiculous amount and allow him to have all of the creative freedom in the world with one contingency...that he move to New York? I'd be much better at getting behind this decision if it wasn't up to me to make it.

If I weren't worried that you would judge, worry, ask questions, or think things about me that make me feel uncomfortable, that's what I would write.

Comments

[Mrs. Gregorton]

Yes, it does. You are not going through stages of grief for something you really want to do. The grief is for the chapter that is ending. Stop fighting the grief and be sad, it's what your Gut wants to do right now. Listen to the wailing, blubbering Gut. Hand it a tissue. Buy it a pastry. Live in the moment with your Gut.

[AR]

No! Don't go! Please Stay Home.