"Seasonal Insomniatic Disassociative Disorder"...or Something Shiny...

It's kinda starting to hit me, ya know? This whole moving to Florida thing. Mostly because of the reactions from my mother and sister...

When I left for the military, that was different. It was a given that I would come home--I mean, come on, a democrat was president. They don't tend to start wars. Go ahead, google it, I double-dog dare you....

I'll wait...

Okay, so I won't wait. Regardless, college was the same way--it's just assumed kids will come home, ya know? Whether it's holidays, summers... That's what you do 90% of the time--you go home, home, of course, being where your heart is, and my heart has always been with my family...

Most of the time.

Okay, okay, mostly most of the time.

You still love them...

But this...

This is moving. MOVING. (Yes, it needed the bold and underline treatment...) For work. For life. For keeps.

Not that I won't be home for weddings (there's on in the works, ya know!), holidays, special occasions... But it's no longer going to be home in the geographical sense of the word, in that, "My home is within an hour drive of all the major players." Two brothers, two sisters, the parents, cousins, uncles, aunts, nieces and nephews...

I'm going to miss out on a lot. A LOT.

But I'm also going to experience so much more. MUCH MORE.

Okay, I'll stop THAT now.

Maybe...

Nah.

Anyway, something shiny.

Yes, shiny. (A little bit of tired randomness never hurt anyone...) You see, every summer, I get mild insomnia, usually late August, early September. Who knows why (although with the rate we label things "diseases" these days, I could coin a new medical condition for it, like "Seasonal Insomniatic Disassociative Disorder" or something....), but it's a pain in my keister.

It's striking early this year, and I know it's stress.

Knowing it was (is) stress, I channeled my inner nerd, did a spread sheet, crunched the numbers (color-coded, mind you), and I know I will be fine (albeit slightly poor) for the next two years until the debt is completely paid off--them's the breaks. But I *will* make it, and I *will* be fine...

But I lived with Eeyore so long, "doomspeak" is second nature. I abhor doomspeak, so much so that I now purposefully "optimize" every doomspeak scenario that enters the brain. Things like, "Well, even if Dad were on his death bed, what are the odds that I'd make it there before he died even if I still lived locally?" (Don't judge me!). Or, "Well, even if I did end up stranded on a deserted stretch of beach, I've seen cast-away long enough to know not to name my soccer ball 'Wilson,' so it'll all be good and I'll never freeze to death..."

I never claimed they weren't far-fetched doomspeak...

DOOMSPEAK.

(Told ya...)

My mom teared up a bit over dinner--not that this is unusual, but it was in regards to a "Five more weeks!" statement. I could hear Sylvia's voice crack ever so slightly looking at the pics of my new abode while I was on the phone with her. I'm jam-packing my schedule (for me, that is, being the quasi-anti-social being that I am) with a trip here, a lunch there, a dinner then, an outing here, an invitation over there...

I know once I'm down there, life is *really* going to slow down. I'm expecting it, and can't wait to dive into the books that have been packed away for the last ten years and reread some great classics and favorites. (At least, I *tell* myself I can't wait...) Practically, I can still call everyone in my family every day and gab, talk, laugh...

But I will no longer have the option of taking a day just to stop by.

And I think we're all kind of thinking that.

Life will go on. We will all survive, and thrive even.

But I will miss the convenience of having my loved ones close enough to hug.

HUG.





I'm gonna have to make that one last...

I'm going to miss them like you wouldn't believe.

Or, maybe you do.

But this is my blog, therefore, it's about me.

And them...

That's life, ain't it?

Something shiny... And bright... And family...