Believing

I have really been struggling to write lately. Not because of blocks, or lack of inspiration, but so much is happening so quickly that I have too much to say and very little time to say it. Not only are our lives changing in numerous dramatic ways, I also have a two year old all of the time and toddlers aren’t the most conducive to writing.

A few weeks ago, we made the official decision to move to Baja. It wasn’t “spur of the moment” per se, because it has been something we have been talking about for years. My partner has people there, we have done our research, none of this is new, except the reality of it.

It was a daydream, a fantasy, a long-term plan, something we talked about while hanging out getting buzzed. Now? Now we have plane tickets to leave this place at the end of next month. Now, we have given our slum lord the last months rent and our 30 days notice. Now, we have pictures of the house we are moving into with a view of the fucking ocean.

The closer it gets, the more real it becomes. My brain is countering everything positive and exciting by bubbling over with overwhelming feelings of worthlessness, self-loathing, fear and guilt.

I can’t really even put my finger on specific, substantial fears about the move. It is like this abstract anxiety that I equate to living in a Mario ghost house. It causes my heart rate to rise, my face to flush, my hands to shake, but when I try to address the monster, it isn’t there anymore. But it still feels like it is and I am having trouble shaking that.

Part of my therapy has included a lot of challenging these damaging, intrusive thoughts. So many of these automatic thoughts and feelings are habitual. I never even noticed most of it before. It is amazing how many beliefs we can carry about ourselves and not realize that they are completely false, harmful and unnecessary. It is easy to say that, to know that it’s simply a nasty habit and not the truth. To believe it on the other hand is another beast for me.

My partner and I have been talking about the difference between knowing something and believing it, lately. I can’t back up my shitty self statements. For example, I told my therapist I was convinced I wouldn’t fit in with my partner’s friends when we move and it was causing me quite a lot of anxiety. When she asked me why I thought I wouldn’t fit in, I didn’t really have an answer for her. I don’t know. I am a nice person. I am relatively intelligent and witty. I know these things, I guess, but I don’t believe them most of the time.

I worry that I appear as the girl whining about moving to paradise, but it is so intimidating. We have been talking about how our lives could be different moving out of the bible belt, being around like-minded people, the food, the music. All of these things are actually on the horizon for us right now and that it scary as fuck. It is the universe going, “Ok, I see you. Let’s do this shit. Now what?” Now what? Now I have the chance to walk my talk. Now I can fail. I couldn’t fail when I wasn’t trying.

Too good to be true seems like an understatement here, but it does feel that way. It is hard to accept that I really have worked hard and paid my dues. I have fought. I have suffered. I have sacrificed. I have grown. Now I get to reap that reward and I am still not convinced I deserve it, that I have indeed earned it. I am sure this is something only time and experience can ease, so in the meantime I am keeping busy and moving forward. Always forward.

🖤