As excited as I have been about this trip to Boston, over the last few days another, meaner feeling has crept in and taken over my mind. It’s pure, unadulterated fear. I fear loneliness, and suddenly I am faced with the good possibility it will grip me a lot of the time while I am away. I’ve never done this before – when I went off to college I was immediately surrounded by dorm mates, many with whom I still keep in contact to this day. When I left college and moved out to Maine, I was moving in with Tom. And now I’m here. And while I thought I could be stronger in this move, in this new adventure, something has happened and I am now reluctant to put even my big toe into the water. That strangling, suffocating fear of being alone takes hold of me, and I can’t imagine enjoying anything that is going to be out there to enjoy unless I am accompanied. I am confused about my choices, I no longer see a clear picture of my future, and worst of all, I’m letting it make my last few days here complete hell.
I think part of it is that I am leaving in only a week, but I still have a week of being here (mostly alone) to get more and more nervous. If I had it my way, and I wasn’t scheduled for work, and I didn’t have responsibilities here at home, I would have left already, to make it begin instead of waiting with choking anticipation. Because deep down I know, logically, that I will have a good experience there, and I’ll be able to see this the minute I arrive. But right now my heart is so mangled I can’t see through the haze of fear, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and confusion. This isn’t what an adventure is supposed to begin with, is it?