Overcoming the last four months of my life makes me feel like I've earned some kind of trophy, an acknowledgment of that potential that resides in all of us: that we can do hard things.
I can do hard things.
Sometimes I forget that I can, though I'm usually reminded when I come to the end of a trial. I may not like the hard things I'm tasked with doing, but in the challenge lies opportunity for growth. It's the growth that helps me differentiate the end from the beginning, to determine the rewards after the sacrifice.
When the prospect of relocating our family 360+ miles away to enable my husband to take part in a new employment opportunity, I was intrigued. I always thought moving away from the place I was living would be an adventure. When that prospect of relocation became a reality, the sudden acquisition of a mile-long to-do list kept my mind so busy that I didn't have time to really think about what we were doing. We had made the decision to go, and that was that. It was a painful process to watch as things fell into place so we could go, but we went. We did what it took to get us where we were going--a new life in a new city, with a new job and new school for the kids.
The fog is clearing; the dust is settling. We're learning new grooves and finding new normals. They don't tell you what to expect on the other side of relocation. You know, when you actually get to where you're going. They don't warn you about the completely different set of emotions you employ as you start a life somewhere else. It's a lot, but we are doing this. I am doing this. Someday I'll be able to look back and marvel on the road we traveled. One thing is certain: I know we made the right choice to come. Now it's just a matter of figuring out the rest.
