Literally speaking, my lungs are like, "What fresh hell is this?" every day. Walking to work has really helped but I have to say that stairs are going to be the death of me. I end up wheezing and clutching my chest. I feel 85 years old. I watch people run in the park and am amazed at their supernatural abilities.
It seems as if every day I go through the same emotional roller coaster - not a major one, like Thunder Mountain. A minor, gentle one like the Tea Cup Ride. I wake up and marvel that I'm here, then miss G and hope that he gets here soon. I miss Orca, then sit and have coffee and watch the sun rise over the park and start to marvel again that I'm actually here. This is now my life.
At work, I have the most anxiety because change is change. New office, new procedures, lots of things up in the air, the beginning of a new chapter for the entire company. I used to be in the middle of all the action and now I am not. I am in the midst of action on a much smaller scale; I am on the periphery of my former life.
After a few hours of living in the middle of the anxiety, I remind myself that this move is what I wanted. And I wanted it because I no longer wanted to be in the midst of all the activity, with the awful commute and the traffic and no end in sight. I wanted a quieter place and a quieter life. I knew there would be an adjustment.
So each day I am living out the adjustment. I am unpacking a brand new life and trying to figure out where everything is going to go. I know in my heart that no matter what happens, this is the right move. This place is better for me, and when my family finally gets here to stay, it will be the right place for us. Friends live just down the road and I will have a packed house on Sunday night for dinner and A-peep already has tickets to come out here, and I'm getting the feeling that December is also going to be a great month for N, her fam, and my BFJ. Things are looking up.
I just have to keep breathing. [yeah, right]
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