And I Persist

 "This ain't for everybody. Toes hanging off the ledge..." 

~ from Eric Church, "Hell of a View"

There are moments when I wish I could curl up safely within my comfort zone and just let the world around me do what the world around us does. It's been nearly five months since I gave the finger to my comfort zone such as it was in Vegas and set off through Snowmageddon scope-locked on (yet another) new life. Asheville. I've done this more times that I care to count - Kansas, Michigan, Texas twice, Las Vegas: Screwed the comfortable old normal and tried like hell to create a new one, all the while keeping my anxiety under a dull roar. 

I spent my childhood safely ensconced in a one story tract home on Wanesta Drive in Poway, California. I can't say I ever thought much about my comfort zone back then. All I knew is that I preferred being home with my family more than anywhere in the world. I even faked a series of headaches in elementary school and  a few stomach aches in high school in support of that notion. Home was a given. 

Then it wasn't. Hell, adulthood happens and, regardless of my parents' eventual divorce, I couldn't stay there forever. At some point, Mom and Dad would have booted me. And really, I never saw not leaving as an option. College, grad school, and a life beyond academia was the path. I don't know what I assumed back then. That, like my parents, I would settle in one place and never leave? I surely never thought I would live in six different states by the time I hit my fifties. I'm a serial monogamist so I gave every place a fair shake (with the exception of Las Vegas because...well...its effin HOT there in the summer and brown year-round). But inevitably, at some point, my quest for Home overwhelmed my desire to remain in my comfort zone. 

The first couple times I moved I didn't have a clue what I was getting into and why I suddenly had anxiety problems. A brilliant counselor in Austin helped me figure that out and gave me some tools (and recommended anti-anxiety meds) to  assist with the adjustment to the unknown and newness that come with relocation. Through her counsel, I realized that I simply do not do well with new. And that - f*** me - I was going to have to get used to it if I was going to make friends and carve out a (new) life for myself. Thanks to Andrea, I survived and re-created a comfort zone.

So, look, I knew going in that this move was going to be f***ing difficult and exhausting. I have only myself to blame. Even though I know how to deal with newness and unknowns, I still don't relish doing it. Since arriving in mid-February I have spent the majority of my time with my toes peeking out over the edge of my comfort zone. I've consistently pushed its limits - tried new things, seen new places, met new people, found a new Home Depot store. I'm sure for some, that all sounds exciting - a break from the everyday doldrums of the tried-and-true that they feel mired in, a break from safety. 

For me, it's a beating. One more lash from the whip, one more deep breath, one more cannonball off the high dive. Steeling myself to a series of new days in new places wears on my spirit, mind, and body. There are few breaks from the bombardment. Sitting here in this coffee place that I have frequented enough that the barista knows I don't want room for cream; skating lap after lap at the Velodrome (which is incidentally just across the street); walking my dog on the same path; running the same route... These things all help. For a moment or two, I can relax into the warmth of normalcy. 

Once up on a time, this coffee place, the Velodrome, every place I ran and walked were all brand-spanking new. I had to take that leap - that chance - and risk the discomfort. Because if I know one thing, it's that to find your way in a new place you have to find your way. It may be at various turns exhausting, painful, anxiety-inducing, and scary, but it is the only way. Soon more and more places will seem normal, routine, comfortable. Everything will become humdrum, everyday,

When that happens, I'll have to seek out opportunities to challenge my comfort zone. And I hope I always do. As an introvert, the easy way is to curl up under a figurative (or perhaps literal) warm blanket and check out. I could keep firmly to what I know and never venture out into the unknown. However, that's not how I want to live  my life. I'll tell you something I have learned from the hell of moving and exploring and traveling and never staying in one place too long - I am at my best when I'm really, really close to the edge, when I'm swallowing my fear, breathing through my anxiety, when I'm out there accepting the challenge and the risk. 

Point blank, I'm at my absolute best when I'm trying. I never want to stop pushing my limits. Because let me assure you, it's one hell of a view when you're teetering on the ledge hoping you can fly or that the parachute will work. My advice to everyone? Throw off the blankie and get out there. Dare to dare.

*** I spend a good bit of time wishing it was easier already and that I could call my mom....but I know in my heart and soul that the only way to it is through it. And that if I make myself proud, my mom would be also. So I hold onto that tightly with both hands....and I persist. ***