I've been in a little bit of a funk lately, struggling a bit with this idea of home, and where to call mine. Clearly our apartment is home for now, but Colorado still doesn't feel like "it." I have really sweet friends here, but I miss the ease of our PA friends. The farther out we are from the move though, the more Pennsylvania loses its "of course its home" feel.
I feel stuck between two world, and excluded from them both at the same time.
Everyday that we are here, Gwen and Travis are more entrenched in Colorado. I know I'm not the only one that misses the East Coast, Gwen still blurts out randomly, "I miss my old school" or "I'm sad I can't see [Pennsylvania friend's name]," but Travis is blossoming here, and Gwen is making better and closer friends every day. Each week that passes is one more that takes us farther away from Pennsylvania. Its a very, very good thing; and I find it terrifying. At what point, I now worry, do we tip over and pass the point where it would be harder for them to return then for us (for me) to stay.
I see online or hear about East Coast friends going out and doing things together, and I wish I was there. I go out with friends here and have a beautiful time, but lately there have been lots of last minute cancellations and I'm hyper aware that my Rolodex of people to call to come out instead is nonexistent. I had to fill in a form for a new opportunity the other day where they asked for two emergency contacts. I filled Trav in the first section, then drew a complete blank. I had no one else I was sure I could list, so the second section remained empty.
Friends become acquaintances that fade away, slowly but surely. Checking
in less frequently until they are only there on holidays or birthdays. I
feel myself fading too. Not all the time, of course, but without a sure
home I feel myself becoming blurry around the edges. I sit down in my
car to drive somewhere and get the strangest feeling that I could just
sit there, while life goes on around me like a sped up movie, not moving
until the seat slowly takes me in. That sounds very dramatic, and I don't mean it that way, but I feel "fuzzy" right now.
This isn't the first time I've dealt with loneliness, especially not here in Colorado, but I'm feeling it more then I have since those first days. I'm flagging, I'm falling short for Gwen, and I wish I had any idea on how to make myself feel more settled. I want a real house of our own vs. an apartment; but I get a bit panicked thinking of buying one here.
I find myself again longing for a crystal ball to see the future and give me the answers.
Of course, there's no such thing.
I wish I had a nicer wrap up here, a neat bow to tie at the end. But sometimes there are no clean endings or brilliant conclusions. That's life, especially between two worlds.