That moment when you hate change and everything in your life changes
I hate change. I am a creature of habit. I like routines. I don't like being thrown off my rhythm.
They all mean the same thing: people like me don't like their world shifting. We have, or at least have in our minds, homeostasis where we are. We are safe where we are. We won't get hurt where we are. Even if the change is positive, it's unknown, and that is not security.
This past month has been jam-packed with change—and thus, jam-packed with anxiety. Let's identify the culprits:
- As most of you know, I got engaged on July 11. This was one of those rare changes that actually makes the future more concrete, like a light at the end of the tunnel. But I'll put it in this list anyway, since it is usually considered a pretty big life event.
- In the middle of July, I bought a new car. This might not seem like a huge change for some people, but I'd been through a lot with my old Mercedes: my driving test, my first boyfriend, hauling my friends around, hauling my puppies around, moving in to Asbury's dorms the past four years, moving out of Asbury for the last time. I had my first kiss with my now-fiancé in that car. Even though the paint was chipping, the leather cracked, and the AC was slowly dying, that car served me well the past five years, and I'll never forget the memories I made in it and the milestones I accomplished while it was mine.
- That following weekend after purchasing a new car, I drove to Mankato, Minnesota, my new home for the next three years, for the first time and broke ground (metaphorically speaking) on my new apartment. At this point, Ryan and my brother were with me, so it felt more like a random, weird vacation than anything else. But it was the first time I'd seen the town, apartment, and university where I was going to study in person, which was terrifying. I won't soon forget the conversation I had with my landlady when she arrived to give me the keys and sign paperwork:
Her: So, who's the moving in squad?
Me: That's my brother and my fiancé.
Her (to Ryan): Oh, so do you live around here?
Ryan: No, I live in Kentucky, about 12 hours away.
Her (uncertainly): Oh, so long distance then. . .Have you seen the university yet?
Me: Just a couple of minutes ago for the first time. This is actually the first time I've been to Mankato at all.
Her (thinking I'm a crazy person): Wow, you must be really brave.
Spoiler alert: I'm not brave. - Last Sunday, I said goodbye to Ryan for the first time of many. Years of too-short visits, lengthy drives, and nightly Skype chats have been ushered forward. I cried, a lot.
- I spent my first night alone in my new apartment. I've never lived alone before (I've always lived at home or in a dorm), and as a fairly skittish person (okay, very skittish person), I did not get a good night's sleep. Why does there have to be a padlocked attic door in my closet? Whyyyyyyyyy?
- As of Sunday around 2 a.m, I am officially twelve hours away from everyone I know and love. You would think as someone who has lived across the Atlantic from her family and boyfriend, I would be qualified to do this kind of thing by now, but before, there's always been that someone. Whether it was my first boyfriend when I went to college at Asbury, or my friend Kayla when we went to Oxford, big geographical or school changes have always been aided by a familiar face. This time, I'm on my own. And if you know me, you know that I'm not very good at initializing conversations, which means I'm not very good at making friends. (Hence why most of my friends find me.)
- Last Monday, I completed my first teaching assistant workshop at MSU, where I'll be attending grad school to get my MFA in creative writing. The closest I've ever come to teaching is being a writing center tutor, so it will be quite a change when I'm standing in front of a room full of students giving my own lectures, tests, and essays. I'm definitely going to be one of those professors who's mistaken for a student all the time.
As I said before, I'm not brave. I cried when Ryan left. I had a panic attack that night. I wanted to give up and drop out of school before it even started. I wanted to move back home and cuddle with my dogs and never leave the comfort of my room. I was (am) scared out of my mind.
But I think the important thing with fear, the important thing with coping with change, is not to let it defeat you for too long. Let yourself cry, let yourself be overwhelmed, but then try to do something that scares you. It can be as small as taking the trash out, or going to the ATM, or finding the post office. Get ready in the morning and drive to workshop, even if you have to use the GPS—then, when your phone stops working a couple of days later, you won't panic. You'll be able to navigate on your own to campus. Eventually, even this change will become routine, and soon, it won't scare you at all.
As of right now, I'm still coping with the change, and I don't expect to adapt suddenly to all the newness in my life in the next hour. But I do know that I'll keep doing things that scare me until this change doesn't seem very big at all.
P.S. For a nostalgia trip, I decided to go through some of my other firsts. Enjoy!
