Life can be hard. It is a series of ups and downs that are not only driven by the challenges of daily life, but also by the biorhythms that control your overall emotional state. Any wrong combination of these two elements can send you on a downward spiral and into a dark place – or at least that’s what happens to me.
I have been riding high since August, when I made my decision to sell my home in New Jersey and move to New York City. It was all very exciting. Between the overwhelming task of packing up my entire life to the actual move itself – and all the newness of the situation kept the adrenaline pumping for months thereafter.
I am now at the six month mark and the dust is starting to settle. I’m allowing myself to slow down and normalize my weekend life, to one similar to what I knew in New Jersey. I’ve put the social life on halt and am focusing inward instead of on all that is external. And so now I am starting to crash.
Introspection is a luxury that I can afford, but the resulting truth can come at a high price, payable by our own self-worth. And as the smoke of our delusions clear and we are left standing naked our self-esteem tends to diminish. I stop and look around and this is what I see.
I have relationships that I’ve lost in the move. Some were merely acquaintances based on the convenience of proximity, but others were deeper ties that for one reason or another broke during the move. I miss them and I am grieving them. And because they consumed much of my time, for the first time in a very long time, I feel lonely – in a city of 8 million people – go figure.
The expense of living in the city has drawn my attention to my finances and shined the spotlight on my career. Since the financial crisis hit, staying employed was paramount, because if you lost your job it would be 18 months before you found another one. So I laid low and limited my career risks. And as a result, I’m in job that doesn’t inspire and doesn’t challenge. I go to the office each day with dread. That needs to change.
I want to pick up the phone and call a friend but most are out and about with their families. I walk to the park and I see parents watching their children play. The creation and nurture of life is something that I will never experience. That makes me sad. And the absence of family becomes glaringly prevalent – no parents and no children. Just me.
So here it is, after six months on high octane my life seems to have come to a screeching halt and my psyche seems to be unfolding into what looks very much like a mid-life crisis. But I’m not known to wallow for very long. I tend to pick myself up and dust myself off to continue onward. The question is, where am I headed to next?