It hurts to write this. I haven't left yet, and I'm writing a farewell.
The pain may actually be more in my lower back and my "twinged" hip than in my heart right now. My heart feels pretty light. I didn't cry when I left my office for the last time Thursday night/Friday morning. I have yet to break down emotionally over any of this.
If I don't, so much the better.
I did have a panic attack around 3 this morning, surrounded by Mount Stuff amid the Sea of Dirty Floor and gazing at the Land of Unwashed Cabinets ... I freaked out. I cried this morning when I woke up and realized the Housekeeping Fairy had dropped the ball on this one and that my backache had not vanished. *sigh* I'm exhausted, but until very early this morning, everything was going really, really well. It still is - it's my perspective that needs to shift.
Anyway. "Leaving" Wyoming so far hasn't been too terrible. The absolute absence of any sadness over leaving is a clear indication that it's time to go. Perhaps way past time.
It's time for a new life. Time to learn more, experience new things and wear those fabulous new rain boots.
"I'm leaving Wyoming, not Narnia," I told a friend who seems to be taking this a bit harder than others. "It won't disappear when I leave it, and I won't have to rummage through a stranger's closet in search of it. I can come back. I will come back."
Wyoming is home. Always has been. Always will be. I'm proud to be from Wyoming. I've had a great life here.
I'm just ready to have a great life somewhere else.
I'm ready to leave the 307.
