It’s so quiet.
After over two years of living with other people, I have my own place. It is a huge deal for me to be on my own. I haven’t been on my own at all since December 2011. There has always been someone around, someone coming home, someone in the next room. Now, it is just me. Nobody is coming through the door.
I have mixed feelings about it. Yes, it is great to be able to just have alone time. At the same time, I have so much time on my own. To think. It scares me in some ways. I am worried about falling back into the depression I fought my way out of. I am scared of things going wrong and losing it all again and being back where I was a few years ago. I am scared of having another stroke and being alone.
I’ve spent so much of my life doing the very things that scare me. Being scared of something was reason enough to do it and it almost always turned out that the fear was ultimately nothing but smoke without any fire at all. This time, I am more than scared. It’s something I have been wanting for so long, but have been terrified at the same time. My last blog, I wrote about surrendering things, putting my energy where it can make a difference. Now, I find myself thinking and worrying again.
Last night I couldn’t sleep. Scenario after scenario going through my head. I feel tired and restless and nervous. I know getting my own place was the right thing to do, the right thing for me, and at the same time it is all just so overwhelming. Even deciding what to put in which drawer seems daunting right now. It might sound silly, but I feel nervous about making those wrong choices. I have four closets and have moved my shoes in and out of each one, not sure if I have made the right choice. I change shelves, I move the soap from the left side to the right, unsure of where it should belong. I have no glasses or plates and when I go to the store to look at some, I am scared of getting the wrong ones. I borrowed silverware and that was easy. The choice wasn't mine, I couldn't make a mistake. And logically, I know none of it matters at all. It makes no difference to anything and yet it feels like it means everything.
I think the silence is getting to me a bit as well. I am used to being interrupted by my niece, one of my nephews, or someone coming in to talk to me or to just be near. Sometimes the interruptions were annoying, but I loves that there was always someone there. Now they are around the corner and it feels so far away. I feel removed from everything and everyone for some reason. I know it isn’t the case, it just feels like that. I thought of getting a roommate, but I know, I really know that this is something I need to do, need to work through and need to get past.
It seems so ridiculous that this move is having this effect. I never once felt intimidated moving. The Netherlands, India, Turkey, Tanzania were all very easy things to do so why is moving a half mile away from where I have been feel so intense? I have trouble sleeping, my head fills with thoughts when I lie down, thoughts I don't remember in the morning, I just remember them being there.
I can only believe this is temporary and that, like so many other things, it will pass.