Moving

I'm considering moving states to be closer to my family.  A year ago, hell 6 months ago, I would have never said that or thought it possible.  But here I am, having made significant progress in so many areas of my life, considering moving.

Moving has been a part of my life.  Between the ages of 18 and 32, I moved 19 times.  That doesn't count the 9 areas I served in on my mission. 19 times!!!  Moving has always been a form of escape.  When I couldn't handle things, or didn't know how to fix the mess I had somehow gotten myself into, I would move.  Sometimes it was apartments within the same city.  Other times, it was to the other end of the state.  Moving has always been a running of sorts.  I'd open my arms and run at lightning speed to a new environment, new situation with new people and hopefully leave my craziness behind. I wasn't calling it an addiction then, but that is what I was hoping and praying for, that a new start would mean a new me.  And it always worked...... for a period of time at least. 

But this time is different.  For the last 5 years I've lived in the same place, attended the same ward at church, and connected with people in a way I never have before.  In the past, I would move and never give the previous people in my life a second thought.  I'd never call, never write or email.  I might think about them occasionally, but never for more than a few seconds and usually in passing.

I think about moving and am conflicted.  I miss my family. I want to be part of their lives and not just the occasional family visit or holiday.  I want to know my nephews and go to their sporting events and school functions.  I want to have cousins sleepover at my house where they all come over and we watch movies and make pizza.  I want to have family dinner with them and be part of their lives.  That is exciting to me.  The idea of living in a place where the sun shines the majority of the time is also very exciting to me.  I'm tired of the wet pacific northwest.  

Yet - moving means losing my piano students, whom I have come to love so much.  It means no more Sundays with Adam, who literally has a melt down if I'm not at church.  It means no more hugs from Flora who shakes with excitement and screams my name when I walk into Nursery.  I've know her since she was born almost 4 years ago.  It means no more book club with the women I have come to adore and admire.  It means building a new network of support for recovery.  It means starting over.  No more spontaneous dinners with friends.  No more walks with Tina.  For the first time in my life, moving is scary, hurtful and full of loss.

Several things go through my head as I think about this and old cycles reveal themselves.....

• What if they don't remember me anymore? That's a prideful, selfish thing to think.
• It's ridiculous to plan your life around other people's kids.  These people I love so much could move away next week.  I can't plan around them.
• It's stupid to think that you mean anything to these people.  This one always haunts me.

If I decide to move this time, it's not because I'm running from anything.  This area will always be sacred to me because this is where I found recovery.  This is where I learned to value myself.  This is where the Lord forgave me for the things I had done wrong.  This is where I learned to stand on my own two feet and be the person I want to be. 

Moving will be a choice of running TO something.  But do I even need to run at all?  Even as I type that, I know the answer.  Yes, I do.  I have prayed and prayed and feel the confirmation of the spirit that moving is the right choice for me.  I'll be running to my family, my nephews, the sunshine, the snow, a beautiful area, my own home, new friends and new opportunities.

But, for awhile, it's going to hurt.  I'm not used to caring this much.  I'm not used to be so connected to people that leaving is painful.