Freaking Out

I started sending job applications out of state and now I’m freaking out. Because this is going to be extremely difficult and I’m going to have no real support besides a small group of people telling me that I can do it. The big people in my life are going to be against me leaving.

I’m scared because this move is all me and I’m going to be screwing with many people’s lives in the process.


Believe me, there is that part of my brain that says it would just be easier to not leave. To stay right here in the comfort of my hometown. But that’s the part of my brain that I need to ignore cause that’s the same part of my brain that told me not to ride a roller coaster the first time, and not to go to Woodstock, and not basically stuff like that.

I was watching this movie the other day (Enchanted) and one character asks another “do you like yourself?” and the other character answers “sure, what’s not to like?” That made me think. What don’t I like about myself? Suddenly that seemed very important to me.

Anyway, bottom line, I’m going to go see my doctor and get some anxiety medication. cause I know that what I’m scared of is not living in a new city. What scares me is hurting the people I care about and the details of making such a big move. That’s small in comparison to turning 40, looking back at my thirties and being disappointed with myself. I can get through a few months, I can’t fix 10 years.

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2 responses to “Freaking Out

  • metalsgoddess

    Awe Hunni. *gives lots of hugs and cookies*
    I havn’t actually had to make such a big decision in my life, so i havn’t really gone through what your going through, So, I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, all I can say is that do what you think is right, don’t listen to the people who might be holding you back.
    Whatever decsion you make. I’ll support you, I know it mght not be much, but, It’s always nice to know… I think…
    xx

    • vinrodriguez

      thanks sweetie. I do have people who tell me how right I am because darn it, I AM right. But there’s nothing like parent guilt to way you down and I’m 30 years old. When, not if – when, I get through this and I get out I’m going to be so proud of me. Thanks again.

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