Packing

I’m in the middle of putting my life in boxes. Part of me wants to hang on to things, part of me wants to purge and then there’s the part that wants someone else to come in and decide what I should keep and what I should let go of. I’m moving on to bigger (yay!) and better things in my life. I get to spend time in my own house, have all the privacy I’ve lived without for 27 years and know that my husband is coming home to me. These are happy things and I can’t wait, but I also can’t explain why part of me is still unsure…Maybe it’s the thought of failure, the idea of NOT making it on my own or maybe it’s just the change itself. I’m a creature of habit, it’s why I stayed in a bad relationship too long, why I didn’t quit my last job 3 years sooner, why I laugh at the same jokes over again, use the same catch phrases, love my family so much and still get warm fuzzies when I kiss my husband. It’s predictable (mostly), comfortable and safe…Those three things aren’t all bad, but when they make you uneasy of what the future holds, it’s a whole different ball game. I’ve got to get myself ready for adventure, the unknown and ready to grab life by whatever it’ll hand me. I’m going to enjoy this, whatever it is, wherever it leads. It’s my story to write and I’m armed with blank pages and an unending supply of ink.