All An Adjustment

A little over eight months ago, I packed up my life and my cat, and moved 132 miles to a state where I knew not a single person. This is is, to date, the craziest thing I’ve ever done – but I had to do it, in order to get the fresh start that I have wanted (and needed) for far too long. These past few months have spanned the whole gamut of emotions and lessons. I will start off by saying that I never considered the mental and emotional ramifications of moving; I was far too focused first, on finding a house, and then, on the logistics of packing up, medicating my anxious cat (it runs in the family…), and actually physically getting here, that I failed to think about what it would be like once I was living somewhere new, with zero support network, significant other, family, or friends. What follows are some of the impressions from the early daze and months in my new digs, as I navigated unfamiliar territory, tried to be brave, surprised myself, and effectively made it all up along the way.

1. *I* am definitely the problem

It didn’t take too long before I was fairly miserable in the new neighborhood. I wish more than anything that weren’t the case, but it’s true – and the whole point of this blog is to be brutally honest, not only for the sake of catharsis but also to hopefully be relatable to someone else who might be going through something similar. I can’t remember the exact moment I started (routinely and daily) having “What the f- was I thinking…?” pop into my head. Some of it has been more recent, such as when I started (another) new job and had to begin battling traffic to get out of the “f*ckerhood” in the mornings. But some of it was right away, e.g. the Noisy Neighbors and their inability to close cabinets correctly, or EVER be quiet and respectful of their duplex neighbor. It also doesn’t help that they have an extremely yappy dog – or an “overgrown rat”, as my dad calls them. Now, I’m getting off-topic per usual, but I quickly realized that *I* am the problem: I was miserable dealing with the noise pollution and assholes of Northern Virginia – and now I am dealing with a different type of misery, here in Pennsylvania. But this brings me to the second point…

2. Life is a series of trade-offs

You really only ever trade one problem for another. Sometimes you trade multiple problems at the same time; in other instances, it might be more gradual. But it’s always, always something. And it’s always going to be. Which now leads me to the next point…

3. Ice cream is the answer, no matter the question

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention ice cream towards the beginning of this list. And when I mention everyone’s favorite frozen treat, I don’t mean from the carton, although that works, too. No, I mean that Amish Country is chock-full of creameries: in fact, the state of Pennsylvania has around 5,000 dairy farms, which equates to a wealth of delicious creameries, ice cream shops, and old school custard stands. When I met my boyfriend and future husband (we’re getting to that soon!), we bonded over our mutual love of ice cream – and eating our way through the state has become one of the central parts of our relationship. Plus, it almost always cheers us up, when we need a little comforting. Kind of hard to stay glum when you’re eating a scoop (or several) of frozen cream, sugar, and vanilla with your better half!

4. Acceptance is a muscle

I don’t know if I spent much time thinking about this when I was still living in Virginia, but I really, really struggle with acceptance. I struggle to accept things like my mental health (or sometimes lack thereof); I struggle to accept that I’m not where I want to be in life (frankly, geographically or otherwise); I struggle with all of it. And this is very difficult, because I feel like I am constantly experiencing cognitive dissonance as a result. I WANT to be able to accept my reality and try to make the best of it, especially since I do know how richly blessed I am. But I feel as though I am constantly going over and over the same thought or topic in my brain, as I grapple with the reality of it and as I endeavor to try to accept it as fact and as reality. And so, it occurred to me that acceptance is a muscle of sorts: we have to train ourselves, like we do with our actual muscles, to embrace our situation in the hopes of full acceptance.

6. A fresh start does not indicate continued sobriety success

The events of “Augtember”, as I’ve dubbed it, deserve their own post – but I will say that, as with most things related to my fresh start, I thought new surroundings would automatically equate to continued success in sobriety. Unfortunately a slap in the face came in the form of a series of slips – but what I’ve realized is that I am the only one who can forgive myself; recovery is not linear – and don’t let anyone tell you differently; and it’s okay to fall down as long as you get up in a spectacular fashion. My sobriety doesn’t define me – and I think I’m still coming to terms with that.

7. It’s stupidly difficult to make friends in your early- to mid-30’s

I don’t think I need to elaborate too much on this one: it’s unreal how hard it is making friends as an adult! I’m incredibly grateful for technology, as it has allowed me to keep in touch with my best friends back in Virginia and elsewhere, but I am seriously in need of some estrogen in my life.

8. The obsession with grass is unfortunately NOT unique to Northern Virginia

This one makes me sad AND angry. I always tell people one of the reasons I left the DC suburbs was to escape the noise pollution. What I didn’t account for was the fact that I would be near enough to other suburbs in my new dwellings – and that even people with small yards are obsessed with running their noisy lawn equipment in all seasons, at all hours of the day. I’m working on going deaf via whichever set of AirPods or earbuds is fully charged – and I’m so thankful for ambient music like this one.

9. You’ll find love when you least expect it, but…

This story deserves its own post (which I will soon link here), but the single greatest thing to come from my Big Move was meeting my person – and fairly straight away, I should add. In fact, I sometimes beat myself up for not focusing more on the positives (of course, this is true in ALL areas of my life, not just related to the good fortune of meeting my boyfriend!) but just because you found love…

10. …doesn’t mean that suddenly everything is perfect!

In the early days of falling in love (or fighting the flu!) everything truly seemed perfect: we were both in this delightful little bubble of love and sheer bliss, reveling in the fact that we had finally met our person and now we would never let each other go. Meeting in the 3rd quarter, as we say, means that we can do things on our own timeline, like getting married on the anniversary of our first date. Yes, our love does make me delirious on a daily basis – and yes, I will do my best never to take him for granted or the fact that moving to Pennsylvania was written in the stars, since it meant I would meet him – but life still comes at you from all angles. I think the beauty of finding your person means that you no longer have to walk through life alone: you finally have someone there for you, no matter the day or the circumstances, and you’re there for them, too. This is everything I’ve ever wanted – and yes, it was worth every stressful moment of Moving Mania to find him!

In sum, am I glad I moved? ABSOLUTELY. Have I had a lot of harsh realities about being the problem and needing to learn how to cope? YES. Am I stronger because of what I’ve gone through and the times that I’ve had to put myself out there and be brave? Also yes. Am I looking forward to moving again? Yes – but I’ll probably still be unpacking and getting settled up until the movers come…

Have you had a similar moving experience or had to adjust to a new life outside of your comfort zone? Drop me a comment below!