Today I learnt that I am moving 3,249 miles away.
And, boy, am I feeling the guilt of every single one of those miles.
None of the articles I read prepared me for guilt. I was prepared for nervousness, apprehension, excitement, longing to be there, fear – you name it. But for some stupid reason I didn’t think I would feel guilty.
In my head, we’re only a Skype call/whatsapp/fb post/Instagram pic away. If you want to see my face, or I want to hear your voice it’s so easily done nowadays. And worst case, there can be a plane heading in either direction within 24hrs.
But my amazing mama put it quite simply and sadly when she said that whilst we’re looking forward to our new life of adventure, she’s trying to work out how she’ll fill the gap I leave.
The thing I can’t say to her is that, when I get there, my life will be ALL gap. It will just be one big gap with Hubs and BC in the middle. And, whilst it IS exciting to think about what I will now fill it with, it doesn’t take away the fact that the gap wasn’t there and now it is. Because of our choice to do this.
But I can’t say that out loud or else I will probably cry. And, at the very least, I have to look super happy all of the time as otherwise I get accused of being ungrateful for the most wonderful opportunity we’ve been given (not by mama, I hasten to add)
In a nutshell, I can’t win. I can’t be sad enough and I can’t be too sad to make everyone happy.
So instead, I’m just distracted. And that’s actually okay with me.
Distracted > guilty any day.