Moving

I blogged yesterday and it felt extremely therapeutic, so I'm doing it again today.

I was just sitting on the couch waiting for Ethan to come home from taking an Accounting test, playing Candy Crush like a normal adult, and I started thinking about how we're leaving soon. Then I did the math, counted the days we have left, and it hit me. I've realized it a few times before, and it makes me sad, but this time when I realized I have less than 21 days left in the place I've made a home for the last 14 months, I got a pit in my stomach and felt sick.

I'm not someone who makes friends very easily. In a group of people, or even with just one or two people I don't know well, I can be really shy and awkward. When we first moved into this ward, I would leave as fast as possible after Relief Society because I was scared someone I didn't know was going to try to come up and talk to me. Now, in that same ward, I have some of the best friends I've ever had, and it's taken me the last year plus two months to get here. Now we're leaving and I'm going to have to start all over again.

I will be with my family, so that's going to be fantastic. I'm just so worried about making friends my age. All my high school friends are in school still, and the ones that aren't are just barely coming home from missions. I don't know if I know anyone from high school that's in the same boat I'm in right now, married and with a baby. What if I don't make any new friends? I won't be lonely, but it is nice to have women in the same boat as you to cheer each other on.

Part of me wishes we weren't going back, both to maintain the independence we're so used to now and to keep the good friends we have here. I know we're supposed to leave, we can't afford to be out here anymore. But there's a rough road ahead of us. I only hope we can be strong enough.