I don’t like change.
I realize this is probably a stupid comment. I don’t think anyone LIKES change. But I’m pretty sure there’s lots of people who can at least handle it well. I am not one of those people. Given the option, I will have a complete meltdown, and then pull myself back together after realizing that everything is still ok.
But I never seem to have that option. At home, it was because my mother was a basketcase, and if mom can’t do anything and dad is an airhead, that leaves me to deal with the crisis. And of course, if your grandfather dies, you will obviously be perfectly fine. Who needs time to mourn, he was old. My parents disown me and kick me out of the house, but too much in shock to process, and by the time I’m able to, its been over a year and I’m now in college. I move several times, lose more friends than I care to admit, lose yet another home without being able to say goodbye, and continue failing at life.
Now I’m moving again. I have one roommate trying to to have a mental breakdown due to graduating, boyfriend, and her own moving issues. The other generally makes comments along the lines of ‘Well at least you only have things to gain out of this move.’
Hate to break it to you, but I don’t. In fact, I have quite a bit that I could lose. Oh wait, you can’t see that, can you. You think that you can handle change better than anyone you know. Admittedly, you can handle far more than most of them. But I don’t know if you actually handle it better than everyone. After all, no one has noticed yet that I’m having problems. Ah yes, that’s right. No one ever notices. How silly of me to sometimes wish they would.
So what exactly do I have to lose, anyway? I have a school to start over with, job possibilities, safer neighborhood, an actual house, warm weather, lots of sunlight… What’s not to love?
To start with, the school. I’m a senior. but my GPA is so bad I have to start over. As a freshman. And not mention to anyone that I’ve been to another school until i have at least an Associate’s to prove that I can do better, and deserve to transfer to a better school. I have to start over with the idiots. Pretend that I haven’t taken these classes before. Retake Western Civ. I’M A FUCKING HISTORY MAJOR. I’ve taken FOUR YEARS worth of history classes. But, the new school idea will totally erase the madness that comes with being shoved into a room with 18 year old freshmen when you are 26. The insanity that ensues as you kneel down again to relearn things you have known for years. The utter frustration that rips your mind apart as you look around at your new housemates, only to realize that one is having no problems with his education, one just graduated with that degree you want more than anything, and the other is a fucking year younger and in his 4th year of med school. Yeah, that is all completely outweighed by the new school.
Then there’s the fact that every time I move, I lose friends. Unlike most people, I have to work really damn hard to make friends. I don’t like losing them. And I’m pretty well convinced I’ll lose a few after I move. And then there’s the new one I’m moving in with. I’m more than slightly paranoid that I’m going to screw that one up. That Jordan will be around too much, and get the wrong idea somewhere and make things… complicated. That Rhaegar will decide to practice swordfighting in the livingroom. That he will walk in the door after work some day and Jean will launch a mop at his head. That the conglomeration of us will get depressed too often, and he will get tired of dealing with it, even though we try to stay out of the way and not bother anyone. That we will continue to be space cadets and thusly be terrible housemates. Or that maybe… he hasn’t actually thought about it that much, and doesn’t really want me there… And will hate me after the first month or so. Or possibly that there’s actually something wrong with me… and it’s not all in my head… and he will notice. That would be bad too. I would rather keel over in peace, thank you.
I’m losing my home. Again. Its not just a matter of moving. It’s a loss of home. Which no one seems to understand. Yes, I hate it here. But… it’s the only home I have left. I don’t have a family anymore. I just have this. I know where things are, I know how to get around… and now I have to give that all up and go someplace completely new, and learn it all over again. And as much as it will most likely be better, it’s still kind of frightening.
The really small thing that I think has upset me most is the possibility of losing my cat. I mean, it’s just a cat. But he’s mine. He’s been here for 3 years. He’s old. And it’s selfish of me to want to risk his life to drive him 1500 miles to someplace new. But… he showed up when I really needed him… I’m his human. The last time I had a cat that looked at me like he does, I had to leave her too. I still regret the fact that I did, even though I had no choice. I don’t want to give him away, and let him die someday thinking I just got tired of him and didn’t love him anymore.
I’m going to end up doing almost all the packing for the move. On the one hand, this is fair. Most of what’s being moved is mine. And Brad has enough to do, so I don’t mind if he doesn’t do much on that end. But my roommate is either busy, or with her boyfriend, or allergic to the dust, or tired, or, or, or… And while I understand… I just want company most of the time. I want someone to talk to, and share memories with. My memory is terrible. It’s why I keep so much crap. I have to have something tangible to store my memories. And sometimes, especially when I’m stressed, I want someone to share the memories with. And it’s not like it’s easy for me either. I’m mildly allergic to the dust too. It gives me a lovely headache. And any mold I run into nearly kills me. And I could be doing other things as well, like saying goodbye to the few friends I do have here. But she gets to skip out on the last week of packing, and the drive down, and the unloading once there. She gets to fly down the following week because of her last class. Lucky bitch.
But no, this is totally only good for me.
I’m not having any problems with this at all.
I’m not worried about failing this new school too. Or still not being able to get a job. Or pissing everyone off and getting kicked out. Nope, not me. Not at all. I’m perfectly fine.
…or maybe I’m scared shitless, but just have things to do, so I decide to deal with it later when I have time. Because I can at least manage to look mildly productive even when freaking out. Unlike some people I know.
So please, don’t just assume that I’m fine.
I’m never fine.
As a rule, the more fine I act, the less fine I am.
I just can’t admit it.