We made it a year. A whole year in Flagstaff. A year ago today, I left behind the only life I ever knew. My home for 33 years. My friends, my job, my troupe, my dance career. We packed up everything in 2 weeks and were on the road to our new home in Arizona. We had no furniture and whatever belongings fit into our small U-Haul. We had no idea what are our apartment looked like or our neighborhood. Everything happened so fast.
And it was no an easy road. People always say, “I just want to move somewhere and start over.” Its nice to say but harder than people think. The first 6 months were hell. I was depressed beyond reason. I already have clinical depression, but adding the move on top of everything — it was like a dark fog enveloping me. At one point it was so bad I ended up in the E.R. I felt lost.
I recently read in a book that you can visit places-stay in a hotel-move to a new home-and it will feel empty. It feels empty until your energy is mingled with the new place. It took a year for my energy to mingle.
And here I am. A year later. And I love my new life. We both have great jobs, friends, and an amazing life.