I miss my friends. So much so, the other night I drove around downtown doing nothing, stood in front of the CD’s at WalMart literally just staring for 15 minutes, and burned a 1/4 tank of gas bombing down the freeway with the windows down, screaming to every stupid pop song that came on the radio. There was no one to call and ask to the movies. No friends to attack last minute with a demand for hanging out.
Working from home and living with my family, I’m continually around them. Don’t get me wrong, I adore them to bits and pieces and would do anything for them, but even the best of people can only take so much of something. (and I’m definitely not the best, my friends)
The hurt of missing the people that mean so much to me was so intense I couldn’t even have a girly moment and cry. I just felt numb. Yes, yes, I know they say it can take up to 2 years for you to adjust and fit into a new place, but really….this is NOT my favorite thing about moving. This was one of the main reasons I was so hesitant about giving in to moving all the way across the country and starting over. Living on the east coast was the longest I have ever been in one place. Can you possibly understand the simple joy of stability that brings, living in one place longer than 5 years? Not to mention, I feel too old to try and pull up what little roots I have and start from scratch. It’s true I am such a nomad I get antsy living in one place for more than 2 years, but I was growing used to being in one place and I think I was starting to like it. Now it’s back to picking up and starting over all over again.
And as soon as you hit the high school age, it’s a complete pain in the ass to try and make new friends. Everyone has their little groups, favorite people, and best friends from school. I was home schooled. That makes me the awkward duckling. I don’t have any high school friends to fall back on. I never belonged to any of those kinds of groups. I’m the kid who only lived in one place long enough to barely start fitting in and making friends when my parents would pack us up and plop us somewhere else. I can’t even give you the military brat excuse. My parents just liked moving. Me? I now shudder inwardly at the sight of moving boxes and packing paper.
So can you slightly understand my pain at saying goodbye to all the very best friends I’ve ever made in the place I managed to stay for 8 years? (8 people…that’s a big deal)
I love traveling, I love new places, I love experiencing new things, I love exploring, I love adventures, I love new people.
But good god, I hate being alone again and never having a solid place to call home.