Chris wants to move and I want to cry.
While warm weather and palm trees sound very nice, I can’t help but feel sad for the house that we’d be leaving. We live right next to my parents and we’ve put so much work into this house to get it exactly the way we want it - for what? To pick up and move to the oposite end of the united states? To leave family, friends, and beautifully hand painted walls? To flush years of school down the toilet and start from scratch?
No, thank you.
I’m trying to be a supportive wifey. I really am. I’m trying to stop being so damn emotional over the whole thing and let my adventurous nature come out. Why the hell am I feeling so broken? People move all the time. People adjust. I’ll adjust. What am I so scared of?
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