I have so much to write and I wish I could say that I’ve started this blog a bunch of times. The truth is that I wrote most of this in my head when I was driving cross-country and then let it go. When I got to Seattle, I wanted to just sit down and write but I was honestly too exhausted.
But I do need to write, because I am crossing into a new chapter in my life. As I’ve always done, I have to remember how I feel, how I process things, and share this with you because for the last (almost) decade, that’s what I’ve done.
My blog is an extension of me.
During my drive, I stopped in Chicago to see Jenn. As I was leaving the city, I happened to drive by the beach. All of a sudden, I found myself overwhelmed with tears coming down my face. You see, I haven’t talked too much about the end of my relationship because I was trying to focus on work and making it somewhat of an easy transition for A, and just other people’s feelings in general. I never fully mourned the end of my relationship and honestly, people made me feel like I had no right to be upset because I was the one who broke it off.
The thing is, my heart broke too. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, and while I don’t regret it, I do regret the way I handled certain things. It was my first break-up. First serious relationship. First significant heartbreak with double the pain because I was also hurting a person I still care about very much.
So as I drove by the beach where he and I shared an awesome weekend last summer, my heart broke again. While we had our problems (and obviously, the relationship ended for a reason), the last three years were full of great memories. So I had to stop and acknowledge the end.
I had to mourn the end of my relationship. I called A and apologized for calling him while I was crying but there was no one else I could talk to in that moment. As awful as it felt for me, something he said stuck with me. He thought that I didn’t care – that the last three years didn’t mean anything to me because I didn’t seem sad when things ended. I was sad but I couldn’t let myself be sad.
So I cried.
I took a deep breath and continued on my journey.
Let me tell you something about driving cross-country for the first time by yourself – you don’t really want to talk on the phone. At least, I didn’t. I had planned on calling a few of my friends, but I was honestly enjoying my drive too much. The last few years, I’ve really isolated myself and you would think that I had enough alone time, but this was different. I’ve always enjoyed driving. It’s always been my time.
Strange as it was, though I was leaving my comfort zone behind (oh hey, we’ll talk about that scary thing later), I was at peace in my car with the open road ahead of me. I wasn’t even really excited, per se.
I just was.
I didn’t feel any different, except in control. It didn’t really hit me that I was taking this big journey and driving away from my comfort zone until somewhere in Montana. Or it could’ve been North Dakota, I’m not 100% sure. I had this overwhelming feeling of failure.
What the hell was I doing, moving to a brand new coast, let alone a new city?
What if I am a complete failure at being independent? What if I can’t get an apartment? What if my friends end up hating me after a week?
WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?
MAYBE I SHOULD TURN AROUND RIG-
It’s OK. I can do this. I WILL BE OK.
Because I tried. Because I’m doing it and if I didn’t, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
So I kept driving with McLovin by my side.
(To be continued)