Tomorrow completes my move from the DMV back to NYC. So many acronyms, pfft. But this has been the longest.move.ever. Six months. I’m tired, mentally and physically.
I am starting to feel some anxiety. It’s the finality of it all, I suppose. In some way I am giving up my life (as I know it) and my freedom. Even though I’ve been couch surfing, I have had space to be me. Not sure if that will be the case when I return home.
Home. What a double-edged word.
I am grateful I have somewhere to go. Nothing like having a supportive family. They welcome me back with open arms. But lots has changed since I last lived at home, which was 1994.
I am older now. Much older.
I’ve lived most of my adult life very independently. I’m a grown woman with needs.
I feel like I am reverting, going back in time, becoming a kid again. That’s not cool.
Coming home or going home– which is it?
There is a difference. I just need to figure it out.