Life convulsed

When Ammon and I moved into this house, one year ago today (because it's technically still August 1st as I write this), we had hoped to stay here a while.  To convince our aging, well-meaning but terrible landlord buy this rough little dilapidated house in a fantastic neighborhood, and turn it into something extra special.

We love this little crappy house so much that I spent an entire weekend ripping rotted railroad ties out of the front yard and acquiring fill dirt to re-grade the slope.  That is true love, right there.

But then, life giggled a little bit, and hiccuped.  Well, maybe not a hiccup... more like it went into straight up convulsions...

You see, in late June, Ammon came home from work, and mentioned that there was a position opening up with HP out in northern California that he was well-qualified for, and that one of his colleagues was going to check into if Ammon would be eligible to apply, since he is technically only a contracted employee right now.  As soon as he brought up this position, I had a FEELING.  That feeling that you get when you know immediately that something is going to happen.  I started researching the market in the area, and decided I needed to learn as much as I could, in the event that this feeling came true.

A few days before my 30th birthday, Ammon applied for the job.

On my 30th birthday, he had his first phone interview for the position.

By July 6th, we knew that an offer would be coming, but had to wait on the formalities of it all.  9 days later, it was done:  We were offered an incredible opportunity that will change our lives forever.  As of September 14th, Ammon will be an employee of HP in California. We will be establishing residency in my home state, just 45 minutes away from my mom's hometown.

I gave my notice at work, and I'm leaping without a safety net.  This is quite possibly the most risky move that I have ever made.  You could argue it isn't risky, because we are guaranteed Ammon's income.  But as those of you who have been around for long might remember, I've always been the primary financial provider in our relationship.  Now I'm going to be provided for, and it's almost nauseating.

What if I can't find a job?

How are we going to afford everything on his salary if I don't find work?

I think I'm good at Accounting, but will hiring managers in California feel the same?

And even more than the professional aspects, there's the personal aspects.  We're leaving behind our close friends.  His mom, and my parents and brother.  I do have some [distant] family in the area, most of whom I've never met, or only a couple of times.  We are starting practically at ground zero with everything.  

 

Where will I buy my running gear?  

 

For that matter, where do I run?  

 

Where are the grocery stores?  

 

How am I going to get used to the fact that you must use hands-free options when talking on the phone in your car?

Will we make friends right away, or will it be the long, slow, painful process that it has been over the last several years?

I feel very fortunate for this opportunity, I do.  It's unbelievable, and it's special.  We are getting so much, and I am working really hard to have a heart full of gratitude.  Except that there's all of this sadness and fear.  It happened so fast, we didn't have time to emotionally prepare to separate from our support network.  We have to find someone who will take over the lease on our crappy but cute Colorado home.  We have to sort through the things we have amassed, and make some tough decisions about what will stay, and what will go.  All of these things make it so hard for me to truly experience the full measure of the gratitude in my heart.  I should be full to overflowing right now, I know this.

I'm just not there yet.