moving and moving on

It seems that things never meet my expectations. I never meet my expectations.

All the intentions of writing and sharing and not. a. thing. to show for it.

Five months have come and gone. Five months, five hundred diapers, five million itty-bitty decisions leading up to here and now:

New job

New home

New (sort of) life

There came a time, during this whole sabbatical-ish thing, where I realized how hard and fast that I'd been running, still am running.

So I took a job. So I signed a lease. So I moved away from my life to do something new.

So I'm here and I'm lonely.

So I'm here and I'm lost.

So I'm here and not sure that I know at all what I'm doing.

I miss my family and my friends and my church and the baby and the familiar hum of the pellet stove. I miss having my people.

This changing thing, it hurts. It pulls to the point of tearing. It pushes to the point of breaking. 

I am tired, exhausted, from the newness of it all. New grocery store, new roads to drive, new people to understand. 

I drove home today, inching closer and closer to tears as I came closer and closer to the front door. I just want to be home, really home.

Being an adult is hard-- saying yes to things that aren't always easy, saying no to things that you wish you could give your yes.