3 moves in 3 years….you’d think it would get easier. It doesn’t.
I am getting to an age where I’m becoming less flexible handling the stresses of moving gracefully, particularly the leaving, the good-byes.
The optimistic among us say it comes with the territory of being a military spouse. Deal with it. “What a fantastic opportunity to have friends all over the world!”
Oh, I deal with it. I consider myself a fairly optimistic person, too [subjective assessment]. But moving still sucks!
I don’t want to have friends all over the world. I want to have friends that I can pal around with right now, the here and now. If I must move, which I must, I want my friends to move with me!
Unrealistic? Uh, yes, I know this. I am also called Spoiled Wifey for a reason…..Thank you very much!
When I know that I am living a touch-and-go lifestyle, I can either jump right in the game or watch from the sidelines. Watching from the sidelines is much safer, especially emotionally.
But this year, I jumped right in.
I have made several great friends, both military and non-military. I reconnected with friends from high school. I have my rituals and routines. I have my caffeine pow wow at the Tipping Point every Thursday at 10:30am. We have only been meeting up since March, but the group has seen its fair share of drama, exasperations, joys, idiosyncrasies, and most importantly, laughs in the past 3 months. I daresay, those who meet up regularly, will miss this routine the most.
And what has started me on my downward emotional spiral of negativity is the goodbyes and the hugs and the promises to keep in touch (we won’t really, maybe a bit better now that there is Facebook) that I keep having to do this week. I just said goodbye to my Latin Dance class group. Shake those hips, Ladies! Shake those hips!
Graduation will be bittersweet. We celebrate the accomplishment but it also means we all scatter to the four winds.
Recognizing that we will need more oompf to get us through the no-kidding last coffee hurrah (the last 3 coffees have supposedly been the last), we are meeting for cocktails instead. I think I will need several stiff drinks to lessen the pain of saying good-bye, for the anxiety of change, and realizing that this experiment may never repeat itself. Ladies, and I know you know who you are, I will miss you more than I can adequately express.
I will, however, NOT cry over cocktails or get overly emotional and sentimental on Thursday. Trust me, it will not happen. Primarily, once the floodgates open, we all know it can’t end well…..
So I put on my happy face, do what I must (and I’d rather not say what that may be), and say good-bye.
GOOD-BYE, MONTGOMERY!!
