Pre-home Anxiety

Apr 25, 2013 by

          I’m freaking out a little bit. (What else is new?) I’m going home tonight, and I’m stressed. I told my parents and sisters last night. My parents asked if I’m sure that I want to. I responded with a joking, “Well, it is my home. I have to go back eventually,” and then went up to my room to cry. Unexpected. I was excited (and only slightly nervous) to go home. Once I told my family, I realized that I’m going to miss my parents’ house a lot more than I thought. I knew I’d miss it, but I did not expect to shed tears before stepping out of the front door.

          These tears were only trumped by the anxious pressure forming in my chest. Am I sure? Uncontrollable future fears exploded from my head: I’ve been doing well at my parents’. I’ve stayed nourished. I’ve cried less. I’ve felt less lonely. I’ve gotten myself out of the house on a regular basis. I’ve made independent decisions. I’ve done my own taxes. I’ve chosen to make happiness a priority. What if all my progress goes to shit when I get home? What if the sight of my bed tempts me to sleep my life away? What if I walk into the bathroom and melt into the floor? Oh my God, I’m scared of my apartment. What if I don’t live up to the standards of being a kind friend and roommate? What if I return to the way that I was? What if I start taking the bus and don’t leave the house because of that? Is it really a big deal if I let myself have my car? To quote my internal struggle, “No! I’ll have my freedom if I have my car! Happiness experiment!” verus, “Yes! I’ll save less money for Europe if I have my car! Happiness experiment!” I’m clearly conflicted. I’m calling “happiness experiment” to justify both options.

          My worrying was getting off topic. The torturous questions continued throughout the night, in between sleep, and on my way to work this morning. Work was actually a godsend today. Focussing on something else made breathing automatic again. Now somewhat calm, I am sure that I am ready. I have felt ready for days. I’m questioning my decision to go home now because I don’t know what to expect when I get there. Going home is no longer a fuzzy image in the distance; it is happening today. I keep reminding myself that it’s okay not to know what to expect. No one ever does. There’s no need to over think it. All I need to do is walk through the threshold and continue moving forward in another setting. I will deal with the consequences as they unfold; not all at once as they collect in the segment of my brain known as my imagination.

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