Breakfast of Champions

Signs there's something wrong:

1. woke up crying from my dream
2. woke up crying after only five hours of sleep
3. had diet coke and chocolate for breakfast
4. got back in bed
5. got back in bed but couldn't sleep
6. would kill for pot 
7. have lots to do... not doing any of it.

Yeah, that about proves it - there's something wrong. But what? You'd think I was stressed about moving away from the place I have lived for the past 13 years. Nope. Perhaps scared to drive across the country alone? Looking forward to it, actually. Afraid to move to a whole new province, new city, find new job, new friends, new life? So so very excited.

Okay, well, obviously the proof is in the pudding. The dream. The subconscious mind. Asshole.

I'm full of crap. I knew what was wrong the whole time. The dream. My biggest dilemma regarding my move. Kinda sounds stupid if you don't know me... if you don't realize the fucked up emotional development of my life... if you don't understand how hard it is to be strong and tough and funny AND an emotional goo-head who was taught to go to her room when she cried and don't come back out until you're ready to smile again. Thanks Mom.

Anyway, I promised the people at my old job that I would be back to see them before I left for good. I worked at an upscale retirement residence for independent seniors - so I guess I should have said that I promised the old people at my old job that I'd be back. I promised Harry that I would come and take him out for lunch one day. I promised Jane that I would always stay in touch, no matter what. Well, I finished work in August... a.k.a. two months ago and I leave in five days for Ontario and I haven't been back to see them yet.

Obviously this is bothering me a lot (listed 7 lame reasons above, even!) so what's the problem?

Rationally what's the problem? I already said goodbye and I don't want to do it again. This move is becoming kind of emotional and I know I KNOW this would bring me over the top. This would be the breaking point. When my sister left last year she told me that she almost didn't want to go to her going away party because she would cry so much. I told her go, cry, mark the occasion, rejoice for what you have found here and shed a few tears because you will be leaving it but don't avoid it because this is the only chance you get. I hate it when my words come back to bite me on the ass.

More importantly, irrationally what's the problem?? Crying in front of people turns me into a blubbering fool who can't speak and has a runny nose and sounds like she's on the edge of hysteria and about to jump. And I'm half afraid that I won't cry and act like I don't give a shit. And I'm half afraid that they won't even remember me - they are seniors, with dementia. And I'm half afraid they will remember me but won't really care. And I'm half afraid to find out who died since I left - old, old people. And I'm half afraid that they will realize how terrible I am with fractions.

I don't want to go. Let's face it - it's really that simple. However, I know that my reasons are extremely inconsiderate of everyone but me and that is not how I live my life. I know that some of them won't remember and some of them won't care and some of them will be gone... but some of them will be there. And they'll be hurt. And I'm being totally selfish. And I can't help it. They were my family and I left them and I can't bear to say goodbye to them again. I. Just. Can't.

I'm pretty sure I'll go, though... 

Pressure - Billy Joel