I made a promise to myself that when we would move out, I would go out of my way to meet other mothers with children around Felix's age.
I had wanted for a while to work on a farm. To get our vegetables through a CSA (community supported agriculture).
I wanted to start eating healthy again and caring about what I put in my body.
To have a neighbor like the one in Arizona, whom we dearly miss.
To have space to forge our own identity again, after it has hidden from us the past couple years.
I had hoped for a place with a garage, and a yard for a garden.
And I looked at all of this with a heavy heart realizing Denver would likely not be able to accommodate given the slim pickings there were at the prices we could afford.
It got to the point where, when we looked at this place, immediately we applied because it was the first larger place we had seen that was clean. The rest that we saw was a bonus. It was in a quiet neighborhood. There's a park Directly behind the house. It has a garage and a yard, albeit small, but we'll make do with the dogs.
We applied half a month ago, and were promised approval soon after. So we went to San Francisco, nervous, all the while building up all these fears about what was actually going to happen while feigning confidence. Will we make it? What if we feel trapped all over again in a different way?
Was it too rash a decision?
I spent the past month or so in a perpetual limbo of anxiety melting into generally not caring anymore. I stopped mediating for the most part, even though I'll still use certain techniques to calm down or send positivity or whatever. But I felt like there was this bizarre flux period. Where 'I' just needed to settle as things were shifting.
So we move in, and the first night in the house, I feel like a meek mouse that suddenly, somehow landed herself in a proverbial palace. There's no way this is right. Something happened accidentally and everyone will soon realize we shouldn't be here. That kind of thing. We suddenly have a large space to ourselves, that we can personalize. That we can use at our choice. We are suddenly seeing our stuff again, that we hadn't seen since Felix was five months old. And suddenly, we're meshing his life with our old life and it's overwhelming. It's scary and I'm afraid for the pieces that don't fit, because those pieces are all I have of any semblance of a string to pull to find my own identity. It's like I became a mother all over again and I have to learn all over again who this person is. It almost feels like I'm renting this stuff too, if that makes any sense.
While unpacking, I have had NUMEROUS moments of deja vu. This definite, strong knowing that we are meant to be here. (I actually had a pull toward this town when we were looking. ) I also kept in my heart that wherever we moved to, was the place we needed to be. (Brooke. ;-) )
And now, on the third day of being here, I'm signed up to work at a CSA farm for four hours a week for an insane and outrageously cheap price for fresh, organic fruit and vegetables every week.
In two days, I met and conversed with both of my neighbors. I went to the park to meet three families with kids around Felix's age, two of which started conversation with me without any instigation and were some of the most friendly people I've met, further to have them say how we'll chat again as they frequent the park.
There are other things too just falling into place, and it's frightening me.
After such a long period of dread, of feeling trapped and depressed. Of not having any human contact outside of my family (and Internet friends), I'm being bombarded with this amazing and overwhelming situation and place and I am petrified that example I used earlier is going to happen. Someone will realize they made a mistake and we actually need to pack up our stuff again and move out. We had our moment of glory, time for more things to "build character. "
It's overwhelming that we can meagerly make things work through one salary, and I feel vulnerable not being the one making the money that is making this happen.
I'm afraid that at every turn someone's going to stop by and fine us for not mowing the lawn well enough (or soon enough), or point out things I missed at the move in inspection, so we'll have to pay for a complete replacement. That I'll drop the ball on the one thing holding this miraculous instance together.
I feel like I can't appreciate it enough, and it's all happening so fast, so how could I? That it'll be over before I can even grasp it.
I'm going to lay down now, I think. As I try to do when I just need to settle. Thank you, whoever reads this. I'll be fine. I know I'm a strong warrior. I know life is what it is.
Love. <3
