Stay with me

I've learned not to trust the thoughts that come to me when the sun is gone.

In the evenings, the fear creeps in, just like it did in the weeks and days before I came out here.

"I can't do it. I'm going to fail."

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in panic. And in the pitch blackness of my bedroom I second-guess my decision to stay here. I use old tactics to help me fall back asleep--it's not real it's not real it's not real, I say. These feelings are not valid. But there's always a residue of fear in the morning. I roll out of bed anyway and chant to myself, "Don't take counsel from your fears."

During the day I'm fine--I settle back into the rhythm of this city life and remind myself that I'm comfortable here. But as I draw closer to the move-out date, my fears stack up in slick little layers and every night I have to carefully peel them away to get back to the truth.

I can do this. Everything has been fine and it will continue to be fine. I have nothing to be afraid of--really, it's just the anticipation. It's always the anticipation.

I'm frantically grasping at people, trying to gather everyone I can in around me--buffers for this next transition. Although 90 percent of the Barlows are leaving, I'll still have Robert and Lydia and Kate. Rebecca and Sam will be around for a whole extra week! Robbie and Stephanie might be coming back in January! See? Everything will be fine!

There is no cap on the number of good people or the number of good experiences that I can have in my life. There is no quota, no "limit 5 per customer." I have to keep reminding myself that there are millions of good people out there that I haven't even met yet, thousands of good experiences I haven't had yet. And that's something to be excited about, right? Everything will be fine.