Friday, 17 February 2017

Going the Distance

I’m trying to find a way to succinctly present the past five days in the life of April to you. This whole long-distance relationship thing reached peak frustration, and prior to arriving in Calgary earlier this week my nerves were on edge. There was a conversation last weekend…dredging up our worst fears about the realities of loving from 600 kilometres away. So much of our ability to move forward together depended on my ability to secure a job, and that fact was weighing heavily on my mind. I had written a post all about it, or at least, a post trying to figure out how one actually sustains a long-distance relationship. Fast-forward a few days, and all the nerves and dread are now entirely mute.

After eight months of constant driving back and forth and four months of applying to nearly every nursing job I could possibly muster the qualifications for, I’m finally moving!! In the span of 48 hours, after sending an email to a contact I acquired from a former co-worker, I had an interview and a job offer and everything changed. The weight of uncertainty lifted, and I walked out of the interview with an ear-to-ear grin I could not erase from my face. Not only did I feel excited for my boyfriend and I - for us to have the chance to see this thing through - but I was elated for myself as well. I have this warm, fuzzy feeling telling me this is good (and that's not just the wine I cracked while making chilli this afternoon - that's right, detox is done!). It’s the right choice, the right place, the right job, and the right man. Finally, right?

You’d think my emotional rollercoaster might stop there, but you’re wrong. I mean, I’m over the moon excited about this - but as I sit here looking at my schedule for the next thirty days, knowing I have a shit ton of packing, kijiji-posting, purging, visits, and tears to look forward to…well the elation is giving way to the very bitter part of this bittersweet transition.

On one hand, I have Lady Gaga singing repeatedly in my head “I’m on the edge of glory” (if you are like me, you’ve just belted this line out at the top of your lungs and likely thrown in some solid dance moves). On the other hand, there is a montage of sad bastard songs, setting the stage for what are sure to be some incredibly difficult ‘see you laters.’ I have decided, in the lead up to this monumental self-change, I will not say goodbye to anyone when I finally make the trek back to Calgary with my shit in tow (after some serious purging, I watched the Netflix documentary Minimalism and its inspiring me to be more conscious of what I choose to hang onto in terms of material possessions; but I still can't part ways with the blue suede, studded, platform pumps I haven't worn in two years). The thing of it is, and I shit you not: Saskatoon is home, in nearly every possible sense of the word. It houses the majority of my favourite humans, and to think I would never return is downright silly. Ludicrous, even.

So there it is. This prairie girl is pulling up her roots and heading west, like so many before her. And given her propensity for dealing with change horribly (i.e. ignoring emotions until they fester enough to be blurted out after a glass or two of wine), this little adventure should be rather interesting.

A

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