Of course, it scares me to move away from my home of 12 years to a small, quiet area in which I know hardly anyone. I know that I’ll make friends, but I also know that I’ll be very lonely, especially in the beginning. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be comfortable. If I thought that staying comfortable was the right move, I’d absolutely remain exactly where I am and keep doing what I’m doing.
The problem is it’s not working. I know it’s not working and despite my best efforts to ignore my gut, the bile of dissatisfaction keeps rising up into my throat unbidden. I thought I could keep living this way, at least for now. I thought, You should be happy. Nothing is particularly wrong. You have a good job and you make great money for what you do. You are surrounded by friends and familiar places. You have a good life.
But I’m not happy. No matter what I do, something isn’t right here.
I’m leaving because it very well may kill me to stay. It sounds dramatic but it’s the absolute truth. I have to at the very least try and see what happens. My most recent, and unexpected, dip into deep depression shocked me into action. If it’s not the right move, I’ll do something else. The important part is moving forward, always, and not allowing myself to settle just because it’s comfortable. I stagnate when I let my life become routine. My creativity suffocates in mind-numbing habits and thoughtless distractions.
My gut and heart have told me for many months now that I do not belong here. It’s time to finally listen.
It may be sudden, but no, it’s not fucking easy. It’s not cavalier or casual. It’s simply absolutely necessary. It is not my job to explain that to anyone – it is my job to do what I have to do to survive. I’m not trying to be callous, but I am trying to keep myself above despair. I’ve already done enough to sway my own mind in the wrong direction for far too long. I can’t allow anyone or anything to keep me from doing what I know in my most primal of depths to be correct.
I’m emotional as hell about it. I’m scared. I cry at the slightest complication. My anxiety is off the charts most of the time. I could make a thousand excuses to stay. But I won’t. Not anymore. I let fear rule my life far too often. It’s time to hold myself accountable for my own unhappiness.