Letting my joy be stolen

I admit I am totally struggling. 

Like I've written about a lot recently, I am moving to Montreal to be with my husband who has been working there for 2 years. So that means I am leaving my job in church ministry. It is hard to leave, I've covered that topic already. 

But I have realized that I have allowed the frustrations of being present while being replaced as well as the confusion and desire to be gentle to those I love and who I will miss deeply, to completely steal my joy. 

I am totally thrilled to be moving to be with my husband. I love him, more than my job and more these friends (sorry friends, you are a close third...behind Oscar of course). I love Montreal! The food, culture and festivals just to mention a few things that I love. There will be more friends (not to replace, just to add to) and another job. 

So why am I letting things that I can't control take away my joy? I should be screaming it from the roof tops that I am going. I should be counting the minutes. But I'm not. I am partnering every 'yes I'm very exited' response with 'but I am also very sad'. Because I am sad. And that is ok. But I shouldn't let that sadness, frustration or awkwardness completely steal the joy that I feel in my heart. 

Communication is key

Ok, I know I'm not the best communicator. My grammar is often pathetic, I get emotional and sometimes I hear what I want to hear instead of what is said. 

But I try to communicate well and as often as I can. I hate not knowing what is going on. I hate not being able to answer questions with accurate information. I especially hate it when it comes to work. 

Oh well. 

Friendship

It seems to be hard to make really good friends as an adult. I mean the type of friend that you can text all of your frustrations, questions and jokes too, even when it is late or over super time. 

I have found some of those amazing friends these past years. 

I am going to miss them. 

But those type of friends don't go away easily. Yay! 

On a side note

I am very happy with how my hair turned out today, and seeing this is partly a hair blog (a very small part these days) I figured I should post a picture. 

I have a chunk in the front pulled to the side and then wrapped around the bun in the back. A little retro, but super easy to do. 

Leaving is hard work

I'm going to say it again, leaving is hard work. And leaving a job for 8 months is just way too long. After a while people don't want your opinion any more, they don't want you to be in your job, and yet they don't want you to not do you job either. They just want you to be someone else doing your job, or just you staying, not leaving. 

Well that is where I find myself. After a long day of conversations, some planned, some not, some friendly, some less friendly all I can say is that leaving is hard. After 8 months you have to not care as much about what happens after you leave. I find that incredibly hard. I joke around about not caring, I'll even make jokes about it, but I care. I care too much. I find that I am crying almost everyday, sad to be leaving.  Sad to be making the families go through another transition. Mad at different situations. Scared to death about where I'm headed. Tired from years of over work and emotional strain. Nervous about finances. Frustrated that my 8 months of notice didn't get my employer any further along to filling my position than 2 months would have, or so it seems. 

I am also excited in this transition too. Excited to be moving to Montreal. Thrilled to soon be living with my husband again. Hopeful about what God has instore for my employment there.  Desiring friendships half as good as the ones I made here. 

So I sigh and remind myself that leaving is hard work, but it is fun and scary and crazy and sad too. All at the same time, and that is ok. 

Is bigger better?

My husband and I are moving, again. We have moved more than 9 times in our 12 years of marriage and at this point have owned 4 different houses. We have lived in three different provinces so far and are moving to a fourth.

 I am tired of moving.

 With each move is a fresh start, but not before the sad good byes. With each new job comes new challenges and new failures. With each new house comes a fresh coat of paint and many new struggles. 

My husband and I don't always agree on housing, we like different things. I think that's pretty normal.  We are currently trying to buy our 5th house. And this time is no exception when it comes to differing opinions. BUT this time comes with a strange twist. My husband is already living in the province that we are moving to, but I am not, so I have to completely trust him to pick the house. All I get are photos, a Skype tour and his word. So...I  trust him, completely, but it is nerve racking. It helps that we have one mutual goal in mind, lower our debt load and live a bit more simply. 

The house he has picked allows us to do that, while still having enough usable space to be comfortable. Not as much space as I would like (or so it seems from this distance) but enough. I struggle with the bigger is better idea. I really do think bigger is better. A bigger living room, a bigger bedroom, I'd almost kill for a bigger kitchen. I look at others around me with large new houses and I get jealous. I want the bigger and better house. 

But then I remember that with those 'biggers' often comes others, bigger mortgage payment, bigger debt, 'bigger' stress (especial when I'm not working yet). I have decided that smaller is better. Who cares if my Christmas decorations will be stored in the shed, or some of my precious memories will be crammed in the crawl space under the stairs. My canning supplies and freezer will survive in the heated garage. 

My house will be full, but so will my heart.

 

Muffins done.

So I volunteered to make muffins and granola bars for a staff planning day tomorrow at work. I really enjoy baking, and I've loved my job but things recently have just seemed off. I handed in my resignation months ago because I am joining my husband in Montreal at the end of June and it usually takes a long time to fill a job like mine. 

So 8 months is a long time to be leaving a job. And it also means I hear all of the praising and complaining that happens  about a person and position when they leave, but I'm still here. It is not easy. 

I have realized today (not for the first time) that my  identity is all wrapped up in my job and in people liking me. Hence the fact I offered to bring muffins. My thought was this, "if I'm sucking at my job (which I dont think anyone would say that I am) at least I can bring muffins. I can do that right". 

But I even feel like I am sucking at that these days. 

I don't know what is wrong. My identity should be in my faith in God, the skills and abilities that he has given me and in the relationships that I have with the poeple who love me. 

Not sure how to get there at this moment. But I'm trying.