The weird thing is, I lived in the same home, in the same room, my entire childhood until the day I left for college. So you might be surprised to hear that I felt itchy, desperate, panicked to move a few months ago for the umpteenth time in my adult life.
Everything felt wrong. Things weren’t working out like I’d hoped. I was blind to the good, focused on all the things that felt like they didn’t fit. I needed out. I needed out.
A recovering football wife, it’s in my blood to move pretty much every 18 months. Since our wedding day six years ago, my husband and I have packed up our lives and started over more times than I’d like to count. (It’s five times, in case you’re really just that nosey. I would be). You become accustomed to the rhythm. You get addicted to the impermanence. Nothing matters that much because you’ll be packing your bags and leaving soon anyway. Life was temporary. Always.
When we moved to Charlotte fifteen months ago, it was with the intentions to stay. The concept delighted me. I fancied the idea of really sinking my teeth in to the town I so desperately missed when we left it the last time. Staying had to be easier than moving every eighteen months. Right?
Turns out, staying, for someone who has spent the majority of her adult life leaving, isn’t that easy.
I wasn’t happy. And when that’s happened in the past, I’d just have to hold on a little longer, it’d be over soon enough. But when you’re staying? What do you do then?
On a call with a friend, I processed everything out loud. I explained why I wasn’t happy. But moving isn’t the answer here, they explained, calling me on my number one flaw. When shit gets hard, it’s easier to leave. I’ve lived in a world where I could avoid the tough decisions because our circumstances always made them for me.
There’s something terrifying and equally exhilarating in taking control of your life, one tough decision after another.
That call, those words from my friend, woke me up. I heard them on repeat constantly, every time I felt the need to flee. They brought the real issues into focus, and the solution? Face things head on. Make the tough decisions. Take control.
All those things are outside my nature; they make me feel uncomfortable. But which is worse? Discomfort or unhappiness? The thing about discomfort is it forces you to grow. If you let it sink in, if you absorb it in, letting it fill every inch of you, you’ll find that it’ll change you.
Yess, I love this post. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes in Crazy Love by Francis Chan where he talks about God not calling us to be comfortable– but trusting in Him so completely. It definitely sounds like you're on that path 🙂
I moved a lot after high school. A new apartment every year in college and then I worked in property management and bounced around from apartment community to apartment community all over Atlanta. I moved something like 13 times in 8 years. Ridiculous! I have been in my current house for 4 and it feels so weird sometimes…but now I finally have a "home." It's good to lean in to discomfort sometimes, how else can we grow? Sometimes staying is growing 🙂
You are so right in the last bit about discomfort helping you to grow. You've gone through a LOT this year… keep hanging in there and doing what's best for you. Charlotte loves you!
xo, Kristina
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