You Hit Me Like A Naked Androgynous Popstar

I'm just going to say it, the past few months have been absolute h-e-doulbe hockeysticks. I have never felt this stretched thin in my life. Between moving to a new place, starting a new job, and not having a place of our own for any of the new changes, it has been awful. Not to say there hasn't been some wonderful smatterings of joy, but the majority has been filled with tears and broken hearts. Want to hear the fantastic story of the last few months? Sure you do

Well, we started looking for places to live before we moved to Toledo. We gratefully found out I had a job in Toledo and they wanted me there ASAP. We, the naive little fools that we are, assumed we would be able to look around for a week and move in to our new home in no time. Cause I had a great job that would allow us to get a mortgage, right? And we had saved and slaved for two years to have a hefty down payment lined up, right? And cause we were foolish enough to believe we would happily trot over the rainbow and find gold and unicorns and an affordable (safe, big emphasis on the safe part) place to live). Want to know the hilarious part of it all? We asked our brother and sister-in-law if we could stay with them for two days. Do you know how long it has been since that? Two and a half months. For 10 terrible weeks we have searched, offered, moved forward with contracts, and fallen flat on our faces with an ever shallower handful of hope. 

I know this is brimming with bitterness and sarcasm, but I could care less at this point. I have spent too many nights on the floor of my nephew's bedroom vainly wishing that tomorrow would be the day things finally started turning around for us. 

We made five, that's right, FIVE offers on places since we moved here. Three were competitive situations and we didn't win the bid. Whatever. It happens. Two, though, we had happily signed agreements and our homeless selves could see the sun inching it's way over the horizon. 

Tonight, the last deal fell through and now we are hoping to move into an apartment beginning of next week. It isn't cheap and it isn't great, but I am two days away from buying a plane ticket back to Utah.

Again, let me stress that there have been so many wonderful things for us here. Our family is so close! We have seen my parents more times these past 2.5 months than we have in the past 3 years. We have made some remarkable friends and we have some besties over in Columbo. Our church is full of amazing humans who have made us feel wonderfully welcome. The metro parks with their gorgeous woods and endless running trails have kept me and Sel sane. 

Still...

I know trials can refine and strengthen everyone. I know that I have seen myself grow during this trial. I truly have and I am so grateful for the opportunity to learn some of these lessons. But I have also felt parts of me crumble. I, my ever pessimistic self, have become even more pessimistic about everything. I have become a perpetual worrier (okay, I obviously struggled with that before). People bother me for pointless reasons. I contemplated rear ending someone on my way to work this morning because they didn't use a turn signal. I started crying during an interview today because I felt so terribly sad for him. It's scary how close to the surface my emotions are. Much like Spock was when his planet was destroyed, I have been emotionally compromised.  And the worst part, Sel and I just don't know what to do with ourselves. We are both so stressed, tired, frustrated, discouraged, and depressed that we both struggle to properly uplift the other. Normally we are able to take turns per say going through hard things, but lately, we both are just falling apart and the other is too busy trying to keep it together to be of any use to rebuilding the other. Miley Cyrus has just been tearing through our lives like an androgynous naked popstar on a wrecking ball. 

I know things will get better once we are in our own place. I know things will be better because it is Fall and there is nothing better than pumpkins, Halloween, hot chocolate, and running through colorful leaves. I know things will get better because even though my hope has diminished, a small sliver still exists.  I know things will get better because I can do hard things. I have half-heartedly tried to make this my mantra during this whole nightmare of a move and I do mostly believe it is true. I have run a marathon. I have jumped out of a plane. I have dealt with death and depression and all sorts of monsters and have come out of it mostly okay. 

So, I can do this, right?