Grieving Cleveland

My mood swings are out of control. One minute I am on top of the world in happiness, then I snap with any minute form of stress with frustration. The next, I am a weepy mess. I am so freaking sensitive. I’m naggingly asking my boyfriend is he’s “OK,” when in reality, it’s ME that is NOT OK.

And this time, I cannot blame it on my birth control.

I think I am in the midst of a grieving process.

Denial and Isolation. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

Psychology classes come in handy.

But can you feel those all at once?

And the intensity of these emotions (stages) brings about a LOT of stress. So much so, that you almost cannot grasp at anything seemingly normal; hence, the frustration.

I’m totally excited to move, don’t get me wrong, but I’m feeling tiny pangs of sadness for what I am leaving behind. The truth is, we likely won’t be back in Cleveland (at least on a full-time residential status) any time soon. There are no children in our future, so we won’t return to have our kids here. And frankly, the job market — outside of manufacturing, so the news tells me — is pure shit, so that certainly won’t bring us back either. My family is so dispersed now, that I think even my dad should fulfill his ever-growing want to move to South Carolina. You know, he HATES the snow. I’ll eventually have to transfer to a new roller derby team (and in its growing awesomeness, there are leagues in most cities across the country now).

These are the reasons Clevelanders move away and typically return home.

I moved away once to Phoenix. I came back. Mostly because I longed for the boyfriend that I left behind. Secondly, because I didn’t like living in Phoenix all that much, aside from being close to my sister, of course.

But this time, I’m moving WITH my boyfriend (and subsequently driving him crazy with my “communication problems”). And Pittsburgh is kind of awesome.

And I want a kayak.

Anyway, I’m here for one more month in all my sappy, sobbing glory. Let’s at least plan a final Taco Tour.

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