The Move.

-“I take a jog without getting lost. I know where to find a good espresso cup, I wait for my neighbor to walk his dogs and follow them from the window, a little Maltese and a Pit bull. I even recognize the sound of the different bugs, I love living close to the Art Museum even though I never go, but the fact that’s a couple of blocks from my house makes me feel creative, fantasize that I am the potential Claude Monet of my generation or the millennial version of Frida Kahlo”.

-“But in your new home you will be familiar with the whole city not just your lil hipster neighborhood and you’ll find new places, new coffee shops, new running paths, spot different dogs and new things will inspire you.”

-“It’s the feeling of comfort, I’m comfortable and I don’t want to change it.”

And this complete conversation in my mind goes on and on. All this to say:

Resisting to the change is always temporary because I know I’ll be still when I die, so I embrace the change, however I always need to have The conversation in my mind about the pros and cons, the fight between my immovable self vs my jumping all-over-the-place self and of course ‘the list’ the spooky list which includes the thousand imaginary things that could go wrong, but at the end, in the final battle, the one that will decide the winner, when the anxiety has thrown every arrow of worries and the sleepless nights are surrendering to the pillow, when the nails started hurting so I can’t bite them anymore, there, in that moment, changing finds the way to conquer and it succeeds. Changing knows that I know that moving is scary and it’s challenging but it is always the way. So I say to myself I won’t stay still until I have to move again.