Metamorphosis

“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.” 

~ Eric Roth~

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (Screenplay)

I've lived in one city my entire life. I've lived within five miles of the house I grew up in, though I have moved several times. For all practical purposes, this place has been my cocoon, even though I have very much wanted to "escape" to other places or sometimes drifted away mentally and felt as though I was living my own "Secret Life of Walter Mitty." 

Today is the last day that "officially" my family will really be together.  My husband is being transferred to Dallas and we have found an apartment in the spanning metroplex 350 miles away.  Tomorrow the movers come and we will be transporting much of the household to another place "far, far away." Some of our belongings will stay here while I'm still here searching for a new job, another story all together.  Then move #2 will happen. (Please insert sarcastic sounding joyful giddyness here.) 

It's the genesis of an empty nest. My kids are of the age where they are branching out, trying new things and becoming individuals I am proud of. But it's also a scary thing too. I'm ready, but not ready.  

While going through things and packing up a lifetime of belongings, it's amazing the things I have kept. I know why I have kept much of it - I'm a sentimental fool. But moving this stuff, I just want to say, "F-it. Throw the lot of it out. I'm done." But then emotion tugs at me and I just can't do it. I'm a sentimental fool. 

The moving truck arrives in the morning and all I can do is hope things arrive in one piece... or arrive at all. This whole thing though explains why I haven't blogged in a while. However, as my darling husband is in the land of Far, Far Away, I'm sure I'll have some food for thought as I go about a season of change... rather like the butterflies who have to emerge from the safety and comfort of their cocoons if they want to fly.  (BTW...The blue ones are my favorite.) 

Gasping for Air

For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

~Steve Jobs ~

When I was younger, I was impulsive - some would say rash, maybe thoughtless. I often made decisions by the seat of my pants and while some of that was sheer teenage rebellion, some of it was the deep seeded desire to do something "more",  want something more, BE something "more."  And the good Lord knows I got burned more than once. However, I learned through age and experience, grass isn't always greener on the other side. It's still grass and it may be growing over a septic tank. So I tempered that part of me, have learned to make sound decisions and as middle age has pretty much arrived, have found myself in a conundrum. 

Change - It's rearing it's ugly head and I'm oh-so-not ready for it. 

Empty nest syndrome is just around the corner; darling hubby's job situation is about to make some really drastic changes affecting me and the kids and my elderly mother's health is starting to decline - which also has a bearing on some other things going on. 

I feel out-of-control. And the more I try to control things the more out-of-control I feel.  I wasn't anticipating on having my entire universe turned into scrambled eggs in one quick motion. I'm frankly, terrified. Too many changes are happening too quickly and decisions are going to start happening back to back to back and I'm honestly not prepared for them. 

Hopefully, the next six months will be much easier than my mind is preparing me for. However, while I'm generally an optimist, I'm also a realist. Like a fish out of water, I'm going to be gasping for air until I make it to a new tank.