outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary


Doing things you shouldn't be doing

Like sitting and writing in your online diary when you should be packing up your house.

Like having a phone conversation with a potential employer when you should be preparing for the new job you already have.

Like trying to figure out a way to be uninvited from the airbnb reservation you secured for your new job because you're too scared to actually show up and live there.

Here's how I'm feeling right now. I want to get this down in writing so that, someday when everything feels less foreign and frightening, I'll be able to compare my fears with my reality. Maybe I'll be way off; maybe I'll be right on track. More likely, I'll be somewhere in between. And there's just something soothing about putting all your fears into words and releasing them, so no matter the outcome, I hope this will be cleansing.

I'm sick with worry about what I'm about to do: Finish cleaning this house, pack up my shit and the cats, and trek across the west half of the country to my new city and new job. Regardless of how well this ill-timed other job interview seems to have gone, I don't really think they'll be able to move fast enough to steal me away from the employer that actually has already offered me a job (but no contract, still). So even though I will keep holding out hope that I will NOT have to do all this in the next several days, chances are, it's happening whether I like it or not.

What am I afraid of? For one, feeling unsafe. AGAIN. It's a common theme in my adult life for some reason, quite possibly because I'm short and female and prone to anxiety. And I couldn't have picked a worse place to move to if I wanted to feel safe. This is one of the unsafest places in the country. Allegedly. In real life, it's probably not as bad as its statistics and reputation imply, but in my addled mind, it is a living hell and I will be chopped painfully to bits just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

On top of that, driving. I'll need to drive daily from my scary residence to my new job, located in a serene and beautiful location a 30-minute drive away on some serious highways. Driving already scares me. Highway driving with impatient and reckless drivers scares me shitless. Multiple lanes of unceasing traffic, ugh. I do not look forward.

On top of that top, living with strangers. Strangers whose guest I'll be; I'm not even a real official roommate with the rights and privileges afforded this status. I'm being hosted in someone else's home, in someone else's life, and I'm imposing myself and my cats on these people. I've never been fond of living with roommates, even ones for whom I have a deep affection. My first college roommate and I got along great, until she got depressed and started hating me. My second college roommate and I, pieced together by both having unsuitable first roommates, were friends, and we got along great too. But I still felt like we were invading each others' space on a daily basis. Her music bothered me; my mess bothered her. My third and last college roommate, during my semester at Biosphere, was my favorite by far. We lived in a small one-bedroom house, previously described in my old old entries, and we got along like the best of friends, which we were at the time. Maybe that was a function of having more space? We shared the bedroom, but we also had a full kitchen, living room, dining area, backyard...

I've never felt cluttered living with my significant others, no more so (in fact much less so) than bunking with my little sister, but that's different. These are people that I love and who are required to love me, not perfect strangers. I'm afraid that the living situation will be increasingly tense. I met these people, and they seem great. They seem laid-back, passionate, caring...normal. But I was with them for all of twenty minutes. When I'm there living with them, sharing a fridge and a bathroom with them, sharing my copious cat hair with them, things could turn sour. I want to go in there and try to make things as normal for myself as possible - make my smoothies in the morning, take my shower, settle in for tv watching at night - but I don't know what their routine is like and if my needs and desires are going to conflict with theirs. What if they don't get up till 10, and I need to be to work across town at 8? What if they're up till 3 am, and I have to be up at 6? What if the cats tear up their stuff? What if they eat my food? What if I'm not supposed to wear my shoes in the house, but I keep forgetting? What if, what if?

As everyone and their mother (my mother) keep reminding me, it's only two months. Then I can go out and find another place. But it's two very long months, December and January plus the tail end of November, and we're basically talking half a semester. Which is about how long I lasted with my first horrible roommate (I think; I don't really remember).

As everyone and their mother also keep reminding me, I'll be fine (not my mother; she is certain I will die if I step foot in this scary city). No one is going to kill me. I will not crash on the terrifying highway. I will not be robbed at gunpoint. My roommates will not have it out for me; they will not steal my cats and identity.

At least, not as far as anyone knows. As I've come to realize with my rational adult brain, just because I worry about it, doesn't mean it's going to happen. But on the flip side, just because it doesn't mean it's going to happen, doesn't mean it WON'T. I could still crash; I could still get mugged; I could still be oppressed by my new roommate-hosts. I could still hate my job! I could still a lot of things.

It's not really that that I'm worried about though. I mean I am, but only in a vague, could-happen kind of way. What I'm really worried about is sharing a space, both at work and at home, when I'm utterly miserable, and having to cover up my emotions and appear normal when I'm barely holding it together. I'll be afraid in this new life, and G will be far away. We'll both be paralyzingly lonely, as we were three years ago when we tried this same experiment. Our once every week or so visits will drop to maybe once a month. We don't know what the future holds from here; we have no idea how long it will last this time around. And no matter how exciting my new job is, or how amazing the food in the new city is, or how fascinating my new roommate-hosts are, my need to be with my wife casts everything else about my life into shadow.

3:01 p.m. - 2014-11-24


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