A change would do you good

Can I just share with you something? I am 176% averse to change. So needless to say I've been freaking out for the past couple of days as my move date looms ever closer. It's like my body is having a physical reaction to the upcoming change. I haven't slept longer than three hours in days. I spent last night tossing and turning for a solid 5 hours before putting myself to sleep by Wikipedia-ing JoJo of "Leave (Get Out)" fame. And I wish that was a lie. But sadly it's not. Prior to last night, I had been putting Baby Mama on in the background and setting my TV up in sleep mode. While it helped lull me to sleep (the banter of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler is so soothing...I really hope they are friends in real life), I could recite that movie word for word at this point, which gets embarrassing when I do because not very many people have seen it.

Not only have I not been able to sleep, but I've been breaking out like a 13 year old. It is the opposite of ok. This happens to me every time I've got a big event coming up in my life. I can guarantee you with near certainty that I'm going to roll up to my first day of work at my new job (!!!) with a pimple the size of Madagascar on my face. People will be undecided as to whether to address me or my pimple. I figured that once I grew up, I'd stop breaking out. But noooo, I'm doomed to be Vanessa Williams, in a lifelong ad for Proactiv. Was I surprised when I woke up this morning, glanced in the mirror and saw Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer staring back at me? No, of course not. It's all to be expected.

So as far as the change is concerned, it's really all downhill at this point. All I have to worry about is catching my train on the 27th. Pretty standard fare, but you and I both know that I'm going to be sick to my stomach until then. Because my subconscious makes unhealthy choices for the rest of my body. Everything else I've got to do is done. The entirety of my apartment is en route to DC as we speak/type, which makes for a very echo-y apartment (also not conducive to me sleeping). I've already got a job, an apartment, and friends in the city. I need to just suck it up and stop worrying.

But with me, when something is about to change, I just want it to change already. Like ripping off a bandaid. No, better yet, ripping off the gauze over a tattoo. (Get it?!) I've been like this for as long as I can remember. Every time I've moved, those intervening weeks between apartments was the worst. When I was graduating college...well, I self-medicated with Busch Light, so I probably had much less anxiety. My first day of school, I was a nervous little 5 yr old. Did I pee my pants? I wouldn't put it past my 5-yr-old self. I wouldn't even put it past my 25-yr-old self.

Why does change freak me out so much? In every instance of change, it's been a good thing. When I got this job, it ended up working out like gangbusters, to the point that I'm almost sad I'm leaving. Almost. When I moved the last time into my own apartment, wasn't that amazing because then I could literally come home from work, take my pants off, and not have to worry about when my roommate was going to walk in? When Rachel Leigh Cook changed from dumpy Laney Boggs to hot Laney Boggs, didn't she finally land her dream guy AND figure out who she was in the meantime? Also, did that movie give us the best/most realistic prom dance sequence ever or what?

It's not like I can do anything to stop all this (though I did make several jokes as we're moving all my stuff to the BF re: breaking up. They did not go over well). Change is pretty much inevitable. If it weren't my life would be heinous. God, imagine what hell my life would have been if I'd never changed from the awkward, fat, insecure middle schooler who wore hoodless sweatshirts from Eddie Bauer to school. If you can't imagine, I can tell you: it would be horrible. Braces, a bowl cut, chubby cheeks; I was like a post-op Ugly Betty. Instead of handling rejection like a champ, I'd probably go home and cry into a bowl of Jell-O Instant pudding. (I just go home and cry into a salad bowl now. Much healthier.). What was I talking about? Oh yea, change is going to happen. It's probably best to get used to it. Which is like saying get used to root canals. Or get used to filing tax returns.

Besides, isn't everything pretty much cyclical anyway? Didn't bell bottoms make a come back (whether you called them flares or not, they were still bell bottoms)? Is 1950's Mad Men styled hair coming back? I don't know, take a look at my head and you tell me. Did music suddenly take a very 1980's/1990's synthpop turn all of a sudden? The answer to all of these question is yes. So eventually, I can expect to be that scared little kid peeing in my pants at the thought of something new all over again. Except I will be armed with Depends for the Elderly at that juncture. And will have lost control of not just my urinary tract, but also the thoughts in my head, the ability to drive a car without leaving my blinker on, and my bedtime. Who wouldn't be looking forward to that?!