the precipice of change

I have been noticeably absent from this page for nearly a month, at a real loss for words of importance.

What had seemed important, what had felt was needed, has not felt the same in this new year. Last year was a hard one for me, and my family, as we had this internal struggle and collective unease about the direction of our lives. My husband was torn with being with us, and needing the presence of his family located on the other side of the country. I felt lost in my own head, aching at the absence of people who had distracted me from myself and weak to my naturally inclined sadness. I think that our children felt the weight of our distress.

This year is something different altogether, as cliche as that may sound. #NewYearNewMe is not uncommon on social media, though we all know that most people lack depth behind that proclamation. Because, really, how many people stuck with it once January ended?

I digress, though.

There are times in my life when my unsettled spirit stirs, when it feels something big coming on, some storm of excitement on the horizon. Things are going to change dramatically for us in the coming months, and the changes themselves are not what has me feeling anxious.

There is a certain euphoria that I get from unpredictability, from the unknown, for all things different.

Blame it on my gypsy soul. I’ve said it countless times, and yet, the statement fails to capture what exactly I mean. I live for those wild moments, those times when things do not go according to plan, even they send me into chaos. I daydream of grand changes in our lives, things that take us to a new path of life. So, when things feel too stale, I make a change. I get a haircut. I get a tattoo, something arty. I take up a new goal or project, knowing that I’ll most likely become too restless and just let it fall apart in the end.

But this time, this time there is a big change in our lives coming. I am unsettled in a new way, like I am getting ready for everything that is going to be different this year. I’ve felt the oncoming change deep down, and I wholeheartedly trust that intuition.

I chopped off most of my hair, a good 9 or 10 inches, and dyed it purple. I felt like I had to do something radical, and a secret part of me reveled in the mixed reactions that I received from strangers and those that I am more acquainted with. Don’t like it? I don’t really care; this is what I need for me.

Half of my house is packed up, although there is no concrete destination for where those items will be re-homed. The entire family feels pulled to Florida, to a new and fresh start, and we only become more anxious as the matters of rationality hinder our progress. Of course, we try to stay reasonable, we devise back up  plans in the case that circumstances do not fall in our favor. But it almost feels like we are already gone, our hearts and souls are just not here anymore, despite how much that hurts the people that we care about here.

There is still the possibility that the cards will not play out the way that we want. My sister tells me, however, that our will to move on will only help the universe give us what we desire. I don’t know if I can fully believe that, but I do know that our intuition, our gut feelings, are telling us that we are meant to head East.

And I have to hold on to that feeling because the thought of being rooted in a place so draining, so depressing, makes my heart ache unbearably.