funk

I have to get out of this funk. I am having the worst problem with second guessing myself on everything to do with this move. It's making me sad, and stressed and worried and at times, even in a group of people whose company I enjoy, I just kind of mentally check out and sit there sighing. (At book club last night someone mentioned I seemed drawn and sad. Shit. It's showing.)

I HAVE TO STOP THAT.

One of the worst things about this, to be honest, is there is a very subtle double standard going on. I am not usually so outspoken about stuff like this, but I feel it. I feel like somehow I am an evil bitch for wanting to shake stuff up and try something new. When we moved here and I followed Rich, it was just understood that I, the wife, would follow and it would be ok. It is not near so simple when it's me doing the moving and the husband has to follow. We have a very comfortable, cozy, kind of boring existence in Norway at the moment. Financially we are ok, we have a lovely apartment (it's up for rent available in March btw, at below market rent, to the right responsible person and it's a doozy of a sweet pad) that I really hate to give up, nice friends, and a simple non-threatening existence. Rich seems fairly settled and secure in his job. Mine in Norway is up in the air, what with the takeover of the company, but Norwegian employment safety net laws would support me and give me certain rights with regard to any layoffs and so on. (Though we could not afford to stay here if I was not working as well.) So why the HELL am I shaking it all up?

I am actually asking myself that every minute. I mean, I know the reasons behind it. Our evenings are getting boring, our asses hit the sofa and the computers get opened and that is the evening. I am TIRED of that, to be honest. I don't want to spend another 10 years on the sofa watching Big Bang Theory reruns and going to bed early because it's dark by 4pm and I have winter SAD and I feel lonely and cut off from the world.  Norway was never going to be our permanent home, we were only to be here for 3 years, and now it's been 10, and shouldn't we cut and run while we are still kind of young and can re-establish back home? We don't have any real ties here, though the roots are deepening with friends. The job seems a good career move, there is much to learn, much to grow into, and the offer was really good, too. I know there are risks, but there are rewards too.

Fuck, I know all those reasons but it is not lessening the panic I feel about leaving. What if I get to the US and the job doesn't work out? I am left with no money, no insurance, no safety net? (I have become very Norwegian in that respect, I am literally panicking that if I lose my job or get sick I will be homeless within months like so many people I hear about on the news. AMERICA NEEDS TO GET THE HEALTH CARE THING SORTED.) What if I can't handle Houston? What if I feel so foreign I just want to run away? What if I don't like the job? What if I am there for months on my own while Rich is here trying to figure out HIS job situation? What if he doesn't have as good a job in Houston and then my guilt increases because of what he has given up for me?

And then I found this WSJ article about repatriating and the issues involved, which really rather nicely describes what I am feeling. I am sad. I am grieving. This is HARD. I am also NOT CRAZY. I am in mourning.... I can't stay here, but part of me will be left here no matter what. I just worry, which part?