Maybe You Should Get A Goldfish

Today, I caught myself smiling as I looked at Real Simple.  The colorful magazine spread was telling me how I should decorate.  Decorate a house.  Yeah.  True story.  This girl, excited about nesting?  HOLD THE PHONE!?!?!

So, before you think I’m ready to settle down, read along…

In three weeks, I’ll be undertaking my sixth move of the season (Dec 2012-Nov 2013), and this one was supposed to be ‘permanent.’  By permanency, I envisioned giving myself a year to live in the same place.  Buy furniture.  You know?  Commitment.  The problem is, that except for my momentary facial slip-up of a grin, the strongest emotions that I have been experiencing regarding this upcoming relocation have been mostly trepidation and fear.

Of course, no one enjoys the act of moving, but for someone like me,  I should embrace this move, right?  From a god zillion roommates to none?  That sounds like a good trade.  An apartment?  A closet?  I get all of the shelves in the whole rental property?  “Is that my towel?” will be a banished phrase.  It’s the little things.  Even if I had to share a closet it would be an improvement from my ‘Hostel Style’ Hawaii life.  No more bunk beds or fighting with eleven other humans for fridge space.  Sounds like a non-issue of whether to stay in Hawaii or to go.

Well, yeah…But, I’m scared!  And, it’s a big hassle.  Big. Hassle.

Three months ago, I decided moving from Hawaii to Florida was the best decision that I could make for myself and for my sanity.  Sleep deprivation and exhaustion from constantly living out of a suitcase, but not actually traveling had brought me to a crossroads of either changing how I live in Hawaii or moving away.  I chose away.  I did this because I needed to, and need to ground myself.  The girl that is always in the air wants to find a place to land…

Or so I thought.

The last couple of days, as I perused Craigslist for adorable one bedrooms, in idyllic neighborhoods, my anxiety level rose.  “So, then if I spend this much and then I won’t be able to travel that much…”  “I think I really need a furnished room, because then if I leave soon, I won’t have to deal with moving or selling beds and couches and chairs.”  I bounce between the apartment hunting obsessiveness to car looking frenzy, realizing that I don’t like the cheap cars, but I should just buy a cheap car, because I really want to buy a kite.”  Gosh. It’s exhausting living in my brain for a minute, isn’t it?

What all of this nonsense really boils down to is that I am scared and overwhelmed.  Scared to leave what I love in Hawaii.  Scared to leave my friends.  Scared, because I don’t want to move all of the way to Florida.  All I want to do is move back ‘home’ to Los Angeles.  That is comfortable.  That is safe.  That life feels normal.  My original mindset of moving to Florida was to create a home and be settled.  Right now, I am thinking of every possible way NOT to do that.  I’ve sunk even below the no buying furniture, to the act of looking for shared apartments, which led me to none other than a ‘Crew House’ (although made for Ship Crews, it’s exactly what my life is now. Can we say, “What the hell am I thinking?!”).  Oh, stop this insanity!

I’m caught somewhere between wanting settled and stable and craving freedom and spontaneity.  I don’t want to be tied down to a place, not because I don’t think that I will like that place, but because of who I could meet in that place and how that could hold me to a location.  As much as I dread goodbyes, leaving can be an easy out.  I thought I was ready for less adventure, less travel, and I don’t know if that is truly the case.  Maybe I am a hopeless case.  The girl that is tormented between her desire for a relationship, children, and family, and her intense wanderlust.  Which do I want more?

When I move to Ft. Lauderdale, I have big plans.  I’m going to join a writing group.  I’m going to find a church.  I’m excited about living close to New York, Europe (cause to a flight attendant, Europe is close), and the Caribbean.  I’m going to stay home.  More.  I’m going to travel.  More.  I’m going to make friends outside of work.  I’m going to see if I can be a paid social media maven and a savvy and successful business woman.  I still want to learn Spanish.  Life will be “more normal.”

Hmmm…what have I been smoking?  That doesn’t sound normal.  When I look back at that paragraph, I have just set myself up with A LOT to do.  I’m basically moving across the world, to live the same crazy life, with a few minor adjustments.  Sounds veeerrrrry logical if you ask anyone that’s logical.  RIIIIIGGGGHHT!!!!  In my defense, it does sound exactly like me.

My friends suggest that I get a pet.  “Oh no!” I say.  Appalled.  “I can’t get a pet!  What would that mean? Like, I would have to stay around and who would take care of the creature when I was away?”  So, you would have to stay around they suggest.  But, I couldn’t just stay.  That’s ludicrous!  “Well…”, they pause, “Maybe get a goldfish???”

Baby steps…baby steps.