I Moved

Moving is painful. I can't and don't know what or how to feel. I wanted this months ago, and now that it came, I'm nervous. I'm anxious. I'm sad. I'm so so sad. I miss home so much, to be honest. For months, I was telling myself and others that "I'm moving during the summer" and now that it's here, I'm regretting it at some moments. I moved too quick.

I moved because at the time (late last year through spring of this year), I had this burning feeling to be fully independent. I have always been fiercely independent (literally since birth), but I felt it moreso at this time. I was also looking at colleges and everything and I wanted to go off and do my own thing and be on my own time and my own schedule and work and be an adult because I thought it would be great. At the time, I was single and working and thought I could do anything.

Flash forward to winter of late last year/ early this year, I was dating someone, not working; but working for the weekends to go surfing. I was sick of my parents and just wanted to spend all of my time with him, at the beach; or with my friends or sister--doing stuff. I still had the idea that I would move out. I kept telling myself, "I can't wait until this hell is over with. I can't wait until I move out." I was telling everyone I knew that I was going off to college and moving away and I was waiting for spring to come around to find which college I had gotten into. In the meantime, I was going to school and coming home to go out with friends or my boyfriend of the time and I was just living for the weekends to go surfing. It was the best and worst of times because I was having a great social life but I was also super anxt. This idea was in my mind, but it wasn't reality yet. It was a thought. An "up-in-the-air" idea...

Spring comes, I tear my ACL, got surgery and then I'm taking college tours. My idea is finally becoming a reality. My parents are on board with it. I had gotten accepted into all of the colleges I wanted to possibly go to.

I did all of my college tours and I was torn between two places. I liked one of the places and then I liked the other one, but I couldn't imagine myself living there all year around. I spent a week deciding and then I decided on Monterey.

Within a month I had gotten an opportunity for a job and was looking at rooms/apartments. I was getting my shit wired. I decided to also drag my sister and her boyfriend up with me, because, why the hell not right? We were all done with our lives at home and wanted an escape. Something new. They saw Monterey and fell in love with it.

Months pass and I secured our apartment, I graduated and was off on trips here and there. In between, I was at home, enjoying the surf (I could bodyboard now). Life was good. I was having a blast. I kept telling everyone, "I'm moving to Monterey". I felt secure about my choice. But it still hadn't sunk in with me yet...

Hawai'i comes. I'm having a blast, but then it hit me. "I'm moving as soon as I come back. I only have a few days in between getting home and moving..." I started crying. It felt ironic to be crying in paradise..."At least I have a few days," I said to myself. "At least I have a few days..."

Nope. Couldn't be more wrong. I came back from the Islands, landed at 6 AM where my mom broke the news to me that I was moving the next day. I started crying right there on the plane, trying to keep it together but keeping it together only by the last dignified thread in my body. I was heartbroken. I still am. I don't know how to feel.

Before we left, I knew this. But I thought I was going to have more time. I thought that I could say goodbye to my friends. I thought that I could say goodbye to my home. My haunts...

I spent the entire day moving and I only got to spend my last night with one person. It was great, but it hurt. It hurt so bad. I never wanted the night to turn into morning and for me to say goodbye. My bones were exhausted with emotion at the end of the night.

We left at 9 AM the next morning.

I had to say goodbye to everything I knew for seventeen years of my life. I had to say goodbye to my room, my dog, my house, my neighbors who have taken care of me all of these years. My one friend...who I love very dearly. I know I wanted this, but when the moment came, I didn't want it to happen. I wanted my life to just pause so I could do all of the things I wanted to do this summer. So I could say goodbye to my home, my haunts, my friends. To the sun and the warmth and all of the things that make summer, summer at home. The things and people that I love. I was enjoying my life. I finally had a good summer after so many bad summers. I was traveling and then coming home to spend some time enjoying life home with my friends and then traveling again. the good life. But it dawned on me in Hawai'i that I wasn't going home. I was going to my new home...five hours away. I forgot that I was moving so soon.

Five hours away isn't bad. I have ways and means to get there... it's just...I don't know. I feel like I cut off my year, my summer, my life--too soon down there. I was finally having a life down there, and then my smart ass decided that I wanted to move. Leave everything that I knew with everyone that I love who are still going to be down there while I'm--up here...five hours away, 300 miles away.

My friend told me something on my last night home. I told him I was feeling stupid about moving because I don't even know why I'm moving anyways anymore...

He told me,

"Lo, your life is going to keep moving down here, but stay the same. You're not missing anything. They're missing what you're doing up there."

I guess so hun.

I guess so...