Last day in my apartment, relaxing for a few moments while I wait for the caffeine to kick in. Liger is on his way down with some friends to help us move the bed, and the last of my belongings. I’ve been up for going on 19 hours, and won’t get sleep until I hit close to 28 or 30 hours straight.
It’s weird, and hard to process. I am moving out of a craptastic job, one which I was berated and treated poorly for trying to be a good nurse, to care for my patients, and to help families. I am moving on to a hospital that is one of the best facilities in a tri-state area that specialized in cutting-edge medicine. I am moving in with my fiancé, and finally getting to start our lives together. I will be leaving night shift to go back to days for a while, and can actually get some semblance of sleep again. I will be able to fix my eating habits and get an exercise regimen going, as well as have medical insurance so I can start my antidepressants again, and maybe start on some ADHD medication for once.
But at the same time, I am moving away from several of my friends and family, my pack, and the area and state I have lived in for over fifteen years. I will not be 10 minutes down the road from my Alpha and Beta, or a half hour trip from my old pack. I won’t be five minutes from a Starbucks for my daily chai, or quick run down to Toys R Us and Target to hunt for the newest transformers.
Also, while I basically only had one single room, it was still my room. It feels so weird to leave a place that was mine, and only mine, to move in with Liger and try to make it OUR’s. It’s weird to make this jump from assisting my ex, to living alone, to cohabitation again.
I’m worried, and I want this to go smoothly, I don’t want to scare off Liger, or get him sick of me.
And damn, once we are settled, we better be getting a kitty and a puppy.