My parents were amazing enough to come down and pack up the majority of my stuff 2 weeks ago, so there wasn't much left for me to do. I've had most of the rest of the apartment packed up and clean for a while now, but carrying what's leftover down three flights of stairs tomorrow should be a good workout.
When this whole adventure began in December of last year (wow, has it really been that long?) I was so emotionally attached to our life here that I cried at the thought of dividing our belongings and packing them all away. But now I've surprised myself. I never cried, not even once, during the entire packing process over the past 2 months. Turning in our intent to vacate? Piece of cake. Transitioning his crap out of my room and into the guest room? No biggie. Even piling every wedding picture and old memory from our good days into an "Ex Box" was less traumatic than I thought it would be.
Over the past 2 months, the months where I've been truly at peace with where this path has taken me, I haven't shed a tear over the life I've lost with Josh. I've cried from exhaustion, frustration, loneliness, and even jealousy as he's already replaced me, but not one tear was shed for him.
Then today began and I was feeling energetic despite the "sleep" I've been getting on the air mattress these past 2 weeks. I cleaned meticulously, finished Class #3, and watched some Netflix. It wasn't a bad day, but for some reason I couldn't stop the tears this afternoon. It was totally unmerited, but sometimes you just need a good cathartic cry fest. Days like this are fewer and farther between than they used to be (remember when I used to cry every day?), but they're still painful when they come.
Today was painful because my brain finally registered that I'm leaving tomorrow. For the past 4 years, my life has been a series of moves. I spend a year somewhere, finally make a friend or two, know my way around town, and can tell you some of the good eats. Then something happens and I move again. I start all over again. And it's exhausting, you guys.
Moving from my parents' house to Michigan in the fall of 2009 was easy because I was living with and near family. Moving back into my parents' house in the summer of 2010 was simple. Moving from my parents' house to Virginia in the summer of 2011 was exhilarating as Josh and I were just starting our life together. Moving from Virginia back into my parents' house for the summer was interesting, but it was good to be with family again. Even moving to Champaign in the fall of 2012 was exciting because it meant a new chapter was unfolding in our life together.
But this move? This one's the hardest yet. I've grown comfortable here. My landlord is a piece of crap, but I love this apartment. I know the backroads and can easily give someone directions. I even found probably my #1 favorite sushi place ever (if you're ever in C-U, go to Kofusion). On top of that, I made 2 wonderful friends - 2 people I never would have met had it not been for the blogosphere. And what a coincidence that they're both military wives and live in this teeny tiny town! When I stopped by Erika's tonight to pick something up that I'd lent to her, it was hard not to cry. But we've both been having a rough few weeks, so I thought I would spare us both (and the kiddos).
I'm not going to lie though - I cried the whole way home and I'm crying now. Part of it's exhaustion, part of it is frustration that I'm moving yet again. But an even bigger part is having to leave a friend. I remember leaving my friend, Cortney, when we left Virginia and we cried the last time we saw each other. Leaving people you love is always the hardest part of moving. But I'm thankful to have people in my life to miss.
And I'm even more thankful for social media and Skype because it means I can torment those people from 200 miles away. ;)