How Come This Time I Have My Shit Together?

Every other time in my life when I have moved, I've really just only concentrated on the actual relocation of my STUFF. Like, "How am I going to get a living room full of stuff into one tiny dorm room?" "How am I gonna get all my STUFF across the country?" "Who's going to help me get all this STUFF up five flights of stairs?" "Who's going to help me get all this STUFF DOWN five flights of stairs?" "Is this MY STUFF or YOUR STUFF?" "How will I afford more STUFF?" "Why do I keep hauling the same USELESS STUFF from state to state? I will NEVER use this aerosol deodorant!" "How can I get RID of ALL. THIS. STUFF?"

The STUFF has always been my focus, which is why whenever I first set foot on a new location, I've had to hit the ground running because I was previously too preoccupied to get my SHIT together.

This time is very different.

Maybe it's because I wish the next few weeks would fly by, the way the past several months have, but I am trying so hard to be on TOP of SHIT, that it's kind of becoming an obsession. At this point, I've pretty much done everything I can do from this coast, in this timezone, with the finances and resources at my disposal.

I have talked to dozens of people, asked hundreds of questions, pled thousands of favors, updated the C.R.A.P. a million times, and have a billion little tasks to complete before I finally board US Airways Flight 21 on August 14th at 2 p.m. and wait out the last six hours of my old life anticipating the first few hours of the new one.

Maybe it has to do with my age. I'm not old, but I'm not just starting out, either. Flying by the seat of my pants no longer holds the appeal it once did. And I'm nowhere near the level of naive you have to be to trust that in the face of unpreparedness, charm and personality and perseverance can get you through the rough patches and get a few dollars in your pocket. At this stage in my life, I need a little more than blind faith.

Maybe it's because, as I was saying to Meghan last night on the phone, for the first time in my life, I feel like the move I'm making is actually a step up rather than a lateral move. The only other time I've felt like this was when I moved to Boston for college. I never thought I would get that feeling of optimism back, but every now and then a shiver will run through me that's entirely unrelated to thoughts of naked-type things and I recognize it as Hope For Something Better with a little bit of Belief In My Own Ability mixed in.

Maybe I just growed up a little bit and I realized that SHIT needs to get done before I move to Los Angeles and try and rebuild my life there. Maybe I'm just filling the seconds until I go. Maybe I have a compulsive need to coordinate.

One thing I DO know is that I feel like I can handle it. I'm doing a decent job of managing my panic attacks and the Crazy. In the past, before a move, I have always felt as though I'd bitten off more than I could chew. However, in the 4 years since my last major move, if I've learned nothing else, I have at least learned portion control. I would never have sunk my teeth into this one if I didn't feel like I could finish what I started.

And, as I keep telling myself when my worries and anxiety starts gnawing away at my peace of mind, whatever happens between now and August 14, I'm still getting on that plane.