I haven’t slept in days.
Two weeks, actually.
I’ll catch an hour here, and hour or two there, but for some reason, I lie in bed all night long, unable to catch a break from my thoughts. This morning, I watched the sun come up. It crept though my khaki curtains, and blinded me. Forcing me to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water. A kitchen that stands littered with half-packed boxes of odds and ends. Boxes filled with could have beens. With confusion. And news beginnings.
I won’t go into details, but this weekend, I am moving out of my home. To a new home. Technically, it’s not in the same city. Same county, not the same city. Closer to work. Closer to where I wanted to be in the first place. I’m leaving so much behind to focus a bit more on myself. For once. That’s all I’ll say.
And it terrifies me. It scares me. I’ve never been so “spur of the moment.” My life is always full of plans. I’ll eat this meal…that I’ve planned. I’ll work on this drawing…that I’ve planned. I’ll move to this place…like I’ve planned. But this happened so fast. In less than a week, really. And I’m going through with it. No plan. Just going on what I think is best.
But here is the thing about fear.
Fear is what drives us. Comfort is what hinders us. That’s how I’ve always looked at it. Which is why I never want to live in one city for too long. Which is, in part, why I’m scared of commitment. Comfort. I need that fear to drive me. To push me to keep trying new things. To keep reaching for new things. To move. And move. And move. And never get stuck. So rather than letting this comfort take over, like I have done so many times in the past, I’m going to ride out this fear, and see where it takes me.
Here’s to trying new things.