I used to love the idea of starting over. In fact, I took pride in the fact that I had done it, various times: moved, reinvented my life, started over. It had always seemed simply like an adventure and I quickly forgot about how hard starting over really is. Probably because I had only myself to truly think about.
It turns out that starting over with a toddler and an infant is a whole different story. It's been a period of doubting myself constantly, of giving in to self-pity, and yes even depression. But there have also been good moments, hopeful moments and moments of discovering who is truly there for you.
Some challenges did present themselves just as we started over: my husband got laid off and I lost the job I thought I had waiting for me. So, starting over with two kids and no jobs. To make matters worse, the teaching certification I thought I would have as soon as I got here, did not materialize. States have all sorts of different requirements and this one decided I'm missing classes that I cannot possible take right now. Of course, if anyone in the Department of Education in this state would take two seconds to talk to you about the full set of requirements without charging you 50 dollars and making you wait 3 months, I would have avoided all this and set my sights somewhere else. But what is done is done, and no matter what, we have no choice but to keep going forward right now.
The beginning felt so tough, that I simply wanted to pack up and return home, close to our relatives, close to everything familiar. My best friend said it felt like I had given up before I'd even started. And she was right. There were days, still are days, when all I do, and I mean, all, is to simply sit at home with my kids and count the minutes til the day is over thinking is one more day done and one less day away from my home, in this place that feels so alien.
I'm getting better though. I have the promise of work. My husband is working again and I know somehow things will get easier in the coming months, more settled, more stable. But my doubts remain. And my doubts have everything to do with my children and questioning if we did the right thing by moving here in the first place. I'm not sure anymore if anything is worth my children growing up away from their extended family. I'm not sure if anything is worth my spending the rest of my parents' lives away from them. I can't go back right now, but I'm not sure where my future lies. I just don't want to feel stuck anywhere, or frozen by fear, which is what the last few weeks have felt like.
It doesn't help that it's the middle of winter. That the sun sets at like 4:30 in the afternoon and the nights feel too long. That it's miserably cold. That it has snowed more than I've ever wanted. That I have to keep my boys cooped up in the apartment all day. That we all get cabin fever. I can officially say that after 6 years of thinking I missed winter, I'm over it. If I don't see another full winter again, I'll be fine. It turns out I did not miss the cold, the snow, the annoyance of winter. It was just "the grass is always greener on the other side." Except this move has taught me, it's really not.
Of course, with kids involved, every decision we make must be so carefully thought over. And already, there are regrets to some of our major decisions. So again, we have to look forward and keep moving on, to where, I'm not sure yet.
