Getting there

It's been too long since I "wrote", though this is hardly writing. Tapping isn't writing. Writing makes your middle finger calloused and your wrist a bit sore (an unfortunate side effect of making tapping your exclusive means of communicating).

I miss the written word, but it's found me since I've been in Chicago. Inching up on two months now, incidentally. Sometimes I feel robbed of the time that has passed. So much of it has been spent worrying. I had a chat with my mom yesterday about how all the worrying we do is so inconclusive; so perfectly useless. It make me mad when I do it and can't snap out of it. That's where I was at last week. My counselor and I talk about it quite a bit. She says things like "Don't be so hard on yourself" (she's just getting to know me, folks) and "You need to give these new habits some time."

I am facing a lot while I'm here that I've been delaying for many years.

It's not just being where my dad was and him not being here anymore.

It's not just having to search for grass, and planning a commute that can't really be planned (thank you, CTA).

It's much, much deeper than that. I am facing my fear of inadequacy. My fear of challenge, and subsequent failure. I am facing this under the guise of some oppressive personalities. I'm going through a lot, and honoring that.

But what's even more work is to understand that this transition is precisely what had to happen. I couldn't continue safely tiptoeing through life. Well, I could but eventually, all of my insecurities would have bubbled up and I'd have a baby on one arm, inching toward 40 and the change would be much more difficult to traverse.

And so I'm grateful. And not just because this is happening, but because I have the backdrop and landscape I've always wanted. I have a beautiful home, a unwavering husband and the safety and security of having planned well so far.

So I face the challenges, still. And will continue to do so. . . confident that I have to go through this to feel good.