I wrote a post on July 10TH about how miserable I've been for the last several months. It was the first and only time I had admitted on my blog about how I was feeling and I don't regret writing that post at all. I've been horribly unhappy and if you read the post, you know why and you know what was keeping me from fixing my situation. If not, check out that post, I explain it there.
So, I'm sitting here typing this out from my new bedroom back in Texas. Yeah, you read that right. Actually, it's my fantastic boyfriend's bedroom which I now happen to live in and take up space in.
I decided Thursday night that I just couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't have enough money saved up though. In my mind, leaving was a bad decision. I didn't have a job waiting for me in Texas. I had a decent enough job in CA. I needed quite a bit of money saved up. I wasn't close to what I wanted to be optimistic about my financial situation but I had enough to get home with my stuff and sit for a couple months and be okay. Logically though, it would have been smarter to tough it out a few more months and save up more money. In my head, I had all sorts of good and valid points that made so much sense. Not just to me, also to the people I was talking with about it.
In my heart, I didn't want to stay any longer. Having money wasn't enough. I just didn't care about saving more money if I was going to be absolutely unhappy as fuck in the process. Life is too damn short to spend month after month a sad, lonely, depressed, emotional mess. So, I listened to my heart and I started packing up everything I owned on Friday.
We (family) have moved over 20 times in the 24 years that I've been alive. In moving so much, I got to where I didn't have a lot of stuff. It was too annoying to pack up and move around a lot of junk so I condensed it down. After I had everything I owned packed it came out to 5 suitcases, 4 boxes that I shipped off via USPS (because they were the cheapest option actually) a few loose odds/ends, 3 pillows and 1 over stuffed backpack.
We loaded up the car. Added an ice chest full of bottled water and Red Bull and off we were. By we, I mean my boyfriend and a guy friend who had flown out to visit. Then he just used some of his vacation time to come on this little road trip with my boyfriend and myself to get me back home to Texas.
I decided so last minute that it would have been unfair to most employers. Except, the supervisor/owner of my job (well, now previous job) happens to be my dad whom was hoping that I would make the decision to leave, to go back home to Texas and be happy. So when he found out, he wasn't mad and already had my weekend shifts covered. Yeah, my dad is awesome. The GM there was happy for me and wished me the best then spent 20 minutes just rambling on. He's a cool guy and I really did enjoy working for him. For the most part.
During packing, I felt a little anxious. The anxiety fell away the more I packed and I got excited. I'd think about the money, more so the lack of it, then I'd feel a bit anxious again. Nothing enough to make me change my mind and stay though.
During the drive, I stressed a little about money and the lack of employment. I was nervous and scared as hell that I'd made a mistake. In New Mexico, I had a minor panic attack and then got calm. I made the drive out of NM and on into Texas. By the time I crossed the TX border, I was so giddy and fucking excited that I knew I'd made the right decision. Albeit, I was still worried and scared about the uncertainty of things but fuck it. Like I said, life is too short to be a miserable mess. I can fix monetary issues easier than I can fix my mental and emotional well being.
We got in late Sunday night. We brought in all my stuff, piled it in a corner of Boyfriend's bedroom and then we passed the fuck out. We woke up Monday and started handling the cleaning and organizing of the bedroom. I got some snazzy room organizing stuff for Target that was thankfully on sale so I didn't have to spend a lot. We got everything unpacked and put away. I even got half of his closet to put my clothes in. This will sound a little odd but because of the minor instability of moving around so much, I haven't had my own bedroom with my own closet in a few years. It felt a little weird to have a place to hang my clothes but it was awesome. I had spent a year in California, sleeping in a living room. I didn't mind it but the lack of privacy sucked. I didn't complain much though. It was what it was and I try my best to make the best of situations.
I'm already a little happier than I have been in a long time. Even though my brain wants to argue with my heart that I wasn't smart enough about the situation, I don't really care. I feel in my gut that I did the right thing for me. I'll take happiness and a some stress over having virtually no stress but being a moody, lonely, depressed, emotionally fucked bitch. I still have some things to sort out and I'm a little scared and worried about money, the job situation and some other things but it's nothing I can't handle. I'll be a broke ass bitch for now but I'm confident I'll find a job soon enough and hopefully monetary issues will be okay until then.