It’s been one week since we departed Ohio for the Pacific Northwest. The drive was uneventful (especially compared to our February blizzard experience). We made really good time considering we were towing a U-haul trailer and believed we needed to drive under 65mph to be safe. We arrived “home” Wednesday early evening and I promptly began furiously unpacking. Unpacking turned into crying which was not very helpful to my task at hand, but probably healing for my heart. I completed my unpacking and settling by Friday. I probably should have drug it out longer to distract myself but I’m not much of a procrastinator so…
Our apartment is super cute. It sits on the Spokane River and is within walking distance from everything (AMC, Lululemon, MOD Pizza, Nordstrom etc). There’s a really awesome paved trail (Centennial Trail) and we can take it all the way to Idaho if we want. I imagine myself skating along it or us buying bikes one day and riding out to Idaho for adventures. Parker loves walking along the trail, sniffing every smell and seeing all the new friends. Everyone loves him already (how could you not)? Every place we eat has allergy friendly options galore. Gluten free options always, oat milk everywhere, vegan, vegetarian and probably some other stuff I’ve never even thought about.
Not working has been strange. I mean, I assist Brent with his work a lot so I am by no means laying around day dreaming, but it’s definitely different. I have way less interaction with people which is in many ways peaceful and calming. My tendency is to overfill my schedule and life but my insides yearn for solitude and quiet. This downtime is probably very good for me as I process all the changes. I do miss familiar faces a lot. I cry a little bit everyday.
Something very surprising that has happened is that my anxiety has risen. I don’t feel it in the forefront of my brain all the time, but my body knows it’s there. When I walk Parker or run an errand, I quickly become aware of the lack of comfort: I don’t know this area, I don’t know anyone really. I find myself being challenged in new ways, to evaluate my perception of others and to turn to God much more. I can logically talk myself out of a complete freak out/break down, but it’s unnerving to say the least. I think everyone I see is probably unsafe. I am hyper sensitive to everything and am nervous driving or venturing out in my own.
It’s strange how much security I drew from my life in Ohio. I had no idea I was so comfortable. I am feeling emotions I’ve never felt, fears I don’t recall ever experiencing. I find myself constantly praying, asking for security, a sense of safety and for the ache inside of me to leave. I would not have guessed for this to happen. I did not think leaving would be this difficult. My feelings well up in my throat and are almost uncontainable. I want so badly to think my way out of my pain. I want to convince myself that this isn’t that hard, but it is really hard and I need to be ok with that.
A younger me would be running from this, doing drugs or seeking validation to avoid myself, obsessively cleaning to “process”. Even though this pain cuts so deeply within me, I will run to it. I believe this experience is growing me to be more brave, more bold, more confident and more capable of leaning on God alone, before all others, before any worldly thing. I believe this process is on purpose, to teach me about being myself at an even greater level. I have almost nothing to distract me, I’m alone with my thoughts constantly, and I do not think that is an accident.
Brent asked me today if I just wanted to move home. He feels guilty for my pain. It reminded me of the day I told my mom I was pregnant, twenty years ago: she said, “you can always just come home” and somehow, I had enough wisdom to reply, “if I do, I will never learn to handle hard things or grow.” I can always go home. This is not permanent. In fact, if I’ve learned anything in the past five years, it is that nothing is permanent.
I trust whole heartedly that I am here for a reason. I do not know the reason but I have faith it exists. I believe my husband and I are doing this together on purpose. God has affirmed so many things along this journey and I cannot ignore Him. I believe, no matter how much I dislike it, that Matthew is in Ohio for a reason. And I trust that the bigger picture is way more important than my sadness. I will continue to grieve my losses. I will allow myself to cry as much and as hard as I need to. But I will not accept my feelings as fact and I will not run from this painful experience. Comfort is for napping, discomfort is for growth.