As promised...

Before I get into the anxiety attack, let me pat myself on the back for now having ten followers! Woo hoo!! That's more than double the amount I ever hoped to have. Ha ha!!

Now, I know all ten of you have anxiously awaited my delve into the anxiety that plagued me the first week after I found out we might be moving back to Texas. I need to clarify, though. It's not at all that I don't want to once again be a Texan (although, does one ever really stop being a Texan?). I long to belong to a state that lays claim to amazing beef, where home grown produce abounds, where the grass is green (or more so than Arizona!), the thunderstorms are rowdy, loud and proud, just like the Mavs fans!! Beyond and above the state itself, there is family. To have two of my sisters be close enough to play a much bigger role in Jack's life; to be close enough for Wayne's family to meet us for a day of shopping in Austin... having at least part of our family just close enough to be a part of our lives is a dream we've dreamt since moving to this desert-land.
However, there are complexities to this decision that many of you (and many who never read this) just don't understand. Hell, some of them even Wayne doesn't understand. While none of my fears will stop us from moving - I tend to make the effort to face my social anxieties so I don't become some crazy shut-in - I still have them and they made that first week pretty emotional.
A little background: We moved to Arizona when Jack was just shy of two months. My recovery from his birth was more physically painful than I'd expected and I still had some issues. Then there was the postpartum depression. Not super severe but definitely not helpful when I was suddenly a stay-at-home mom with no vehicle in a town where I knew no one. Given my love of all things flowery, green and lush, moving to Sierra Vista in late October was a culture shock. To my eyes, everything was dead, scrubby and ugly as hell. Depression settled over me like a dark cloak, obscuring all the good things about my life. There was one exception: Jack. No matter how depressed I was, I made every effort to be a good mother. I forced myself off the couch to play with him on the floor. To feed him and bathe him and clothe him. To talk to him incessantly, as the baby books suggested, so he would have a good vocabulary. I did not allow myself to wallow in my dark moods to the point that I was sequestered in my room, alone. I did, truthfully, watch the clock for when Wayne would be home to help take some of the pressure off me. And, bluntly, I did allow the depression to drive a wedge between my husband and I. We argued endlessly over ridiculous things that I can't even recall now.
Eventually, I came out of it. I'd already begun to heal when Wayne went to Iraq and I believe the time alone, while it could have gone either way, truly helped me face my issues and come out better and stronger. I had a LOT of time to think about what went wrong with me. And I had a good, wise friend with whom to talk it all out. (Boy, did we EVER talk!! We can literally talk for hours. Til 5 in the morning!!)
The more I came out of my depression and remembered who I am, the more friends I made. It took time, believe me. I joined a moms group but really didn't make a lot of friends from that because I was still pretty reserved. After a while, I did make some friends... and then more friends... and now I can barely fit them all into our busy schedule. Which, being me again, I love. Seriously. If you've read my blog before, you may have noticed that I love to be the hostess.
So now, here we are, with all our friends... Jack is in preschool. Wayne just started college classes. I just started my Mary Kay business. (Which I should be preparing for my first skin care class right now, but... I'll get to it.) We have a summer full of plans. Jack has his "brothers" or "best friends" Jay and Corgan. We've been going to church. The house is getting more and more to the point we think it should be - although the bathrooms still need updating, the landscaping could use some work and the exterior should be painted. My point is, we have a life that we've just settled into and are pretty darn happy about. Is there work to be done? Of course - we could be neater, pick up after ourselves more, stop eating out so much, spend less/save more money. But we have a good life here in Arizona. With great friends and a cute house.
When Wayne called and told me about the possibility of moving to Texas, my first and oh so unexpected response was FEAR. Very unusual for a girl who has moved 14 times in her 33 years. Granted, many of them were due to growing up Navy. But many of them were after I was out of the house, on my own. And while I had the normal amount of trepidation: where will I work/live/etc; I was always excited to move somewhere new. Meet new people, experience new things. I love how many experiences I've had living in all the different places. I love that I have friends - albeit ones I rarely see - all over the country. There are people that stand out in my mind for having added something valuable to my life and I never would have met them had I not moved so much. And as much of a control freak as I am, I truly do try to just go with the flow. If I can't control it, I may as well let go and let it happen.
The pure, undiluted panic that raced through me was foreign and scary in itself. I began questioning my reaction immediately. Was this about my friends? Of course, I love them. But I've never been so immersed in friends that I didn't accept change and adventure. Was this because of the house? Which will be a challenge to sell, no matter what anyone says. Was this a natural reaction because I'm a parent now? But then, Jack is 3. He'll adapt. I always did.
I really think it's fear of revisiting the past. My initial reaction (which I've gotten over, if you can't tell) was a direct result of the very difficult first year of living here. I have no desire to return to that version of me. After thinking it through, and talking about it incessantly with my sister and friends, I've moved past the fear. And now... we wait. To see if he'll even be offered the job. But at least I know where I am, emotionally, mentally. I panicked, and then I worked through it. Which is a vast improvement over the me from three years ago. And that makes me very very happy.