You don't realize how different you are than another until you gauge how radically opposite you each handle the exact same situation.
Case and point?
Adam and I finding out that our landlord had decided not to renew our lease (for reasons we're still sort of unsure about. Think he's moving back in? Maybe he reads my blog and saw all the lovely things I've said about him).
Adam's reaction? "It will be ok. It's probably for the best. We never really liked living here anyway."
My reaction? SOB, SOB, SOB SOME MORE. Times two hours.
Over the last 5 years I have moved a handful of times, all of which have been completely out of my control. A roommate tells me they are moving to Korea, I'm unemployed so clearly not going to be able to sign a lease on my own or convince someone to move in with me, so it's the push I need to decide to move to Olympia with Adam. After two years in Olympia Adam comes home from a work trip to tell me he's been offered a job in Alaska. We move from Washington to Alaska three and a half weeks later. As I lock the front door for the final time at our Olympia house I also lock away the dreams I'd carried with me all winter long of what I expected to be my most successful summer garden. A little bit of me dies inside.
When we moved into our place in Anchorage I stomped my foot and proclaimed I was not moving again unless we were moving OUT of the state of Alaska. As long as we lived in Anchorage I was staying put. Shitty landlord with his horrible ideas of what constituted "fixed" and all, I WAS NOT MOVING.
Then a year later I find we're moving. Again. Once again against my will.
My reactions to moving are probably not normal. My fear of change grips me as I think about the simplest things. Like getting to know a new neighborhood, a new walking routine with the dogs, finding a new coffee shop, new grocery store, organizing a new closet, kitchen, office, home. I shudder as I realize how for a month or more everything will feel unfamiliar. Once I've moved I play the comparison game. That kitchen was bigger, the other yard was better, the lighting is better here, the neighborhood is better there, on and on and on until I feel as if I live in limbo. Which home do I love more? And why am I torturing myself since I live here now?
"They" say everything happens for a reason.
And this time I whole-heartedly agree.
Because after I got those initial tears out, after I allowed myself to feel uprooted, scared, confused and lost I got to work finding a new house. A better house. MY HOUSE.
Last weekend we moved, and as I played the comparison game as I always do, this time every answer came back with our new house on top.
Thank you universe for knowing what I need, even when sometimes I don't.