I’ve always been scared of change. Although I keep telling others (and myself) that I am getting used to it, I don’t like change. Yes, we move a lot and ideally I should’ve gotten used to it by now, but the fact is I haven’t.
Particularly, this time around. I was moving to a place which I dreaded. New Jersey. This is the place where I’ve lived the most difficult two and a half years of my life. Learning everything from a new husband to cooking to running a house. A difficult pregnancy. An even more difficult delivery. The aftermath of the difficult delivery. Taking care of twin toddlers. A self imposed confinement because of the kids and the much-hated winter. I had voluntarily erased this period of life from my head completely.
That’s why even the husband took his time in breaking the news of moving to New Jersey to me. He knew how much I dreaded moving to this place. Yet, what’s got to be done got to be done. I tried not to think about all the memories that came rushing back when he told me about it. But the more you want to suppress something, the more it stares at you on your face.
We deem a place good or bad based on our personal experiences when we live there. That way, Dallas has been awesome. For the three months before the move, I tried to take in the sights and sounds of Dallas. I busied myself with packing and sorting things, cleaning the place, getting the necessary documentation done thus trying to suppress the uneasy feeling of moving to New Jersey that popped up once in a while.
Then, the D-day dawned. Thankfully, we were late for the flight and were running like crazy. Why thankful? Because, when you’re preoccupied with something more important, you don’t really have time to humor your anxiety. During the flight, the kids kept me occupied. I thought it was all going to hit me once I got down. But then, our luggage went missing for a long time which meant my attention was diverted on to that.
The first two weeks went in a daze setting up the house, getting the kids settled in school, finding grocery and other stuff nearby and all such mundane stuff. It was then that the husband started going to work. Which meant, I was the only one at home. Winter was setting in with the gloom that it comes with. And, finally it was hitting me.
I sulked for some time. I went into my shell for most part of the day. Moody was the constant emotion I displayed. I cribbed to all and sundry, including my mom. She brought me to my senses, just like she always does. ‘What are you cribbing about? Yes.. you did have a difficult time then. But, it all turned out well, isn’t it? How many times have you yourself said it could’ve been worse? You are in a happy place now. Kids are independent and all grown up. Try to make the most of it. But for that, you need to stop cribbing and be happy. Do you get me?’ If I had been anywhere near her, I am sure she would’ve given me a whack. But, I knew she was right. I just had to shake myself off and move on with life.
One week later, we decided to go on a tour through our memories. Our old apartments. The temple where we took the kids first to. Their old pediatrician’s office (for a general visit for the school documentation.) Olive Garden. Grocery stores that we used to frequent. It was tough but it was also therapeutic. I have to admit that the pep talk that my mom had with me did help. A lot.
Now, after three months into this place, I should say I am not as bad as I thought I will be. There are still days when I lie low going into my shell trying to not think about some memories but failing miserably. But most days, I try to be cheerful and happy and thankful.
I know there’s a lot of work to be done yet. But baby steps. I hope one day I come to terms with the past and just live in the moment. One day!