With only days away from leaving home to head towards California, today I’m feeling a lot of emotions that I apparently didn’t notice these past few weeks.
I made a quick stop by my brother’s house to return my key and, as I’m writing a note to him, I’m realizing how this whole moving and leaving home for good situation is becoming so real.
I do this thing where I have some huge event coming up (like moving across the world) and kind of throw it in the back of my mind until it’s days before it’s happening and something I see creates these crazy emotions inside of me and all of the sudden I’m sitting on the floor, with my back against the wall, holding my pup and sobbing.
That’s me currently.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m saying goodbye to my family and friends for the foreseeable future; maybe it’s the feeling that nothing will ever be the same as it has been when I return home the next time; maybe it’s because I’m astronomically afraid of change. Whatever it may be, I’ve let out a good cry this morning but I still have this damn lump in my throat.
What sparked this emotional outbreak, you ask? A Super Nintendo. I was unplugging it from the TV to pack it away in a box to take with me on the move when I found myself sitting on the floor crying and reminiscing…over a video game. I started thinking about how my parents bought the console when my brother and I were super young and how my dad hooked it up in our upstairs of my childhood home and showed me how to play Super Mario (he was always the best at that game). He taught me the secrets of the game and how to find the hidden keys to skip worlds to beat Bowser and rescue the Princess. I thought about our family trip to Florida and how my brother and I beat that game riding in the back of an SUV for the entire 21 hour drive. I was thinking about a couple of months ago when we spent hours replaying the game after I rediscovered it in the attic.
Just those memories alone, about a stupid Super Nintendo, literally cracked me.
Remember when we’re growing up and how we would constantly set milestones for our lives based on our birthdays? (I can’t be the only one). I couldn’t wait to get to 16 so I could get my license and drive. I couldn’t wait until I was 18 so I could buy lottery tickets and throw the ‘I’m an adult’ thing at everyone around me. I wanted to be 20 so that I ‘wasn’t a teenager anymore.’ 21 was the main age milestone I wanted to reach so I could go in casinos and gamble and drink alcohol legally. After 21, without anymore birthday milestones to look forward to (except 25 when my car insurance drops or 26 when I have to find my own health insurance), I started just focusing on my life and personal growth, which is now sending me 2259 miles away from home.
As I’m sitting here now, I’m wondering why in the world I wanted to rush through to the next milestone. I can say that it’s not all it cracked up to be when you get there; adulting is pretty hard. It was a lot better when my mom was tucking me in at night and driving me to school every morning; or when my dad was teaching me how to ride a dirt bike for the first time; or when my brother and I would argue over who loves my mom the most.
There’s just something about being home, around your family and friends, remembering the little memories in life that you all share together. Being home gives you this feeling of warmth. Like a sense of calmness and serenity; a safe haven. Moving away makes you feel unsure, anxious, and vulnerable and that’s what I’m feeling right now.
Well, the lump in my throat isn’t completely gone but it has definitely gotten smaller since I started on this. Funny how writing out the emotions you’re feeling on paper does some good, right?
Wish me luck as I prepare to embark on this journey in the next couple of days!