I’m having a meltdown of sorts.
Yep, that’s right. Me. Not my daughter or my son. (Although had happened today, too.) It’s all just hitting me.
It’s hitting all of us.
We’ve driven by a few houses and we’ve been less than impressed. I’ve been reading reviews on the various schools and I’m trying to sort out where the best fit for my son might be. We are trying to find a place to live, while simultaneously navigating around a city we know nothing about. Meanwhile it’s 189 degrees outside, the kids are cranky, we are all tired of the car and I get flipped off not once, but twice in the last two days. We aren’t allowed to go the speed limit here; it’s 10 over – minimum. There is much to do, but we are all just feeling the PCS blues.
I’m having a meltdown. And that’s okay.
Relocating is hard, civilian or military, no question. But after a few years in the military, it’s as if we are just supposed to know everything about a new duty station before we arrive. It can be a sort of city-whiplash. In our case, we went from a slower paced, island lifestyle to what appears to be a bustling tourist city. (Have I mentioned that Texans drive CRAZY fast?!) We are in our current Navy lodge digs and while I market this experience to the kids as a “fun adventure”, they are beginning to see through my brave face. We are all having a meltdown.
It’s going to all work out, because it always does. We will find a place to live. We will get our household goods, and we won’t be living in the lodge forever. We will start to feel settled. We’ll meet new people, make new friends, and Jake will start school this fall. It will all work out.
But for now, I’m having a meltdown.
And that’s okay. It’s part of the process.