It’s been a weird, lovely, anti-social weekend for me and it’s been good. Good to just be after 3 weeks with my parents; good to be able to think a little.
A lot of my friends keep telling me how crazy and brave I am – brave to move across the world alone once and brave to move across the world again, this time for love. I guess I am brave but you know what? I don’t think I’m crazy. Because if I was crazy, I wouldn’t have any fear at all.
I am scared and nervous and apprehensive. I’m doing all this despite all those fears.
I’m nervous about moving to another country without my family. Yes, they’ll be closer than they are now – a mere 3.5 hour flight instead of 24 hours of flying – but it’s still not as though I can pop over for dinner in the middle of the week. I’m nervous about moving in with Lee – not that I don’t want to, but the natural nerves of living with someone and making their space “our” space. He’s already really settled in the apartment and while I’m looking forward to making it our space, it is a challenge. I’ve never lived with a partner before either, so this is another challenge. We’re really throwing in all the challenges people usually face over the course of a year or longer together – we’re just doing it all together.
I’m scared shitless about freelancing. I’m lucky enough to have one definite project lined up and another 2 possible ones (once I get confirmation from work here) so it’s not as though I’m cast adrift. But I’m scared about the isolation of working alone, since I am such a social being. I know that I’ll find other ways to meet people but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.
But that’s the thing. I am nervous but I’m taking the leap anyway. Because it’s no life if I let fear rule me. I could easily close my eyes and make excuses why things won’t work but where’s the happiness there?
I can do all that but one thing I am scared about is this mole or thing on my leg. I know I need to get it seen to. I know it’s probably nothing but I’m scared to find out. I used to laugh at people who would prefer to hide their heads in the sand about medical things but now it’s me. I’m staring at The Thing and obsessing about it. I’m imagining it growing in front of my eyes. I imagine it’s hot and itchy and weird and it’s not. I doubt it’s changed for yonks, if at all. But I’m scared and I’m scared to know too. Does that make sense?
Why can I take the big leaps but not the little ones?