When people talk about insanity, they say something like “doing the same thing over and over expecting different results,” and I would say next to that definition is a picture of me. I am now in the process of moving into my 43rd home, and it has been met with grief and hope.

I went on a 6000-mile, one-month road trip three weeks prior to this move. I never stop at hotels, so some legs of the drive can take up to 40 hours between driving and taking quick naps. That gives me a lot of time to think. I kept waiting for the downpour of emotion to flood in from the complete upheaval of my life, but it never came. For a while, I thought maybe I just hadn’t sat still long enough to process it, but eventually I came to realize that instead, there just wasn’t anything to deal with. My initial decision to upend my life once again, while tormenting at times, still overall came with a great deal of peace. I knew it was the right thing; my torment came from wishing it wasn’t. So, you can imagine my surprise when for the first 30 miles of the road trip out for the move, I cried. Like ugly cried. Hard.

It came out of nowhere, an overwhelming sadness for what I had hoped would work out in my hometown that didn’t and wishing it could have been different. So much stress around all I had to put together in my new life so quickly, and all of it happening so fast. I was exhausted. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why I’m so convinced that this time will be different, but I am. I’m clearly insane.

I’m convinced that I can have a life and be a teacher. That this time I’m going to be able to do it. I’m convinced that at some point I’m going to feel competent as an educator. (Is ten years long enough to feel like maybe I know what I’m doing?) I have never felt like a good enough teacher- like my students are learning enough, getting enough out of the class, while also being true to myself and supporting them the way they deserve. I’d like to know how good enough feels. I’m convinced that I’m finally going to find true love, and that I’m going to have the quality of life that I’ve dreamed of for so long. I just wish I didn’t have to leave so much behind to do it. I had hoped that I could have it all: be with my family, be with my friends, have a great job, and have the love of my life all in one place, but I couldn’t, and while I am accepting that, it clearly broke my heart. 

Because I had plans. I had it figured out. I knew my next steps…but I couldn’t quite get my heart to fall in line, and things weren’t lining up. It started to feel like a sign. Was I really ready to be where I was going? I’m a nomad. Moving is what I know. It’s in my blood. Trying new things, checking out new places, and experiencing new adventures is what I look forward to. I’ve been sitting still for the longest time of my adult life these last three years, and I could feel it in my bones.

I sat and considered the life I was planning- a life I’ve lived before, a life I turn to when I don’t know what else to do-when I know that what I’m doing isn’t working but am not sure what else I’d rather be doing. I know what waits for me there and what doesn’t. It’s unfair and too much to ask my friends and family to make up for all that I feel I would be missing.

So, I changed my mind. I have a chance to explore a new place, and I’m taking it. I have no idea if I’ll like it, or what my life will be like, but I know I’ll always wonder if I don’t try. And I also know home will always be there for me should I need it. I’m just not ready to go there yet. I have more to do first. There’s a part of me that has always envied those that can stay in one place and work at one job for a decade, or who can actually answer the question “where do you see yourself in five years?” But to be one of them means I would have missed out on so many other personal discoveries that I’m not sure I would have reached any other way. I’ve always preferred learning the hard way, why change that now?