I’ve recently discovered something about myself that I can’t believe I never noticed in the past. Every time a big change happens I freak out. It’s very much a pattern that I never noticed until now. Stupid…I know.
I pride myself on being flexible, and to some extent and in certain ways I generally am. I know there are people who would highly disagree with me, but after some time of “adjusting” I do find a groove. However, there are certain things that I really do freak out about (mentally and emotionally at least). I just always assumed that the big changes were BIG changes and it was normal to be semi-depressed and anxious and worried and stressed out about them. For instance, my first year of college was difficult. Normal, right? My first year moving to Boston was difficult. My first year (well, two years) of Florida was difficult. You’re getting the point.
However, the changes lately have felt a billion times harder than those changes. Good example, the day of my wedding I was far from bridezilla. I described myself as comatose bride. I was pretty calm through some crazy wedding issues, and really just nodded my head at everything. I was abnormally tired, which caused me to be abnormally emotional. I cried over EVERYTHING! I wasn’t afraid of getting married or unhappy with A. I was overwhelmingly emotional over the fact that I was hitting another new portion of my life and that one part of my life was over. It was very hard, to say the least.
I had the same reaction to changing my last name, in which I nearly broke into tears handing over my paperwork to Social Security. And now, I’m over emotional over losing my car. Why? It wasn’t a great car…a Ford Focus that didn’t even have electric windows or locks. The CD player had a hard time ejecting the CD. There was a funny smell from all the water and debris that was tracked in. But, even through it all, I am still so very sad to have sold it. It was a symbol. It represented A and my struggles through our first few years in Florida and our first few years of marriage. I’m almost in tears now just thinking how it is not in my car port.
I don’t understand entirely why I form such strange attachments to inanimate objects, but I do. I know I shoudn’t read so much into things, but I do. I know when I leave this house- for as much as I complain about it- I’ll be depressed about it. Sigh…but c’est la vie! You can’t avoid the changes. You just learn to roll with them.