Mental math.
I prefaced it by telling my friend that I knew that all the hard things right now are absolutely first class problems. “And they are,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. Moving is hard. Moving across the world is hard.”
We’re at the T-single digits days point until we’re wheels up and out of Brussels for good. And as much as I’m excited for what’s next — for home leave and family and the next adventure in Santo Domingo — I’m also… I don’t even know. A little sad to be leaving friends and our first home together plus a little bit of overwhelm with all that has to be done before the movers come next week with a dash of know-it’s-going-to-be-OK-but-OMG-anxious about the very likely scenario that we’ll be living out of our suitcases for the next 2.5-3 months.
But mostly just really tired. For as much as our moves are really supported (and they are — we have movers who will pack us!), there’s also a lot of mental math that falls on us to figure out.
What do we put in our suitcases knowing that we’ll be living out of them for at least a few months? What do we put in the couple hundred pounds of air freight we’re entitled to? What do we send by cargo ship knowing that it could be another 3-5 months before we see it again? How will we keep a 13-month old entertained for 19ish hours of travel? How will we not be at each other’s throats after the likely month we’ll spend in a hotel before our housing is ready for us?
The endless questions wake me up at night. Or, more accurately, wake me up somewhere between 4am and 5am when I sneak down to the kitchen and add notes to the legal pad marked “PCS.”
But the really hard part? Trying to hold space for both. For knowing that every one of the things on my lists are first class problems. And for knowing that, yes, moving across the world with a toddler is hard even with phenomenal support.
My friend suggested that I let myself feel it. That feeling rather than diminishing wouldn’t erase my empathy for those who are truly suffering. That acknowledging where I am these days doesn’t take away my ability to find gratitude in the small things or doing what I can to help in a world that feels more than a little broken.
