Finding my way back to “me”

The moving truck had barely pulled away when I felt the silence. Not the kind that’s peaceful — the kind that echoes. The kind that makes you realize your daughter’s laughter won’t be bouncing down the hallway anymore, and that the closest hug is now 12+ hours away. We’ve moved before — lots of times, in fact, but this one feels different.

We’ve moved plenty and changed homes and cities several times these past several years, but a major move is vastly different. The last time we packed up and moved far from our home and the people we knew and loved, we were leaving Detroit for Chattanooga. I was new to moving in those days. I had stayed in my metro Detroit area for the first 46 years of my life. But I had never moved out of state, away from my dad, brother, relatives and lifelong friends before, so it was new and scary.

Upheaval leads to new chapters

Last year, when my husband lost his job to a corporate restructuring after 15 years as an automotive engineer, it was a gut punch. You spend a decade and a half building stability, and suddenly, it’s as if the ground shifts beneath you. We had been through this once before, 15 years ago to be exact, but now we were 15 years older and the thought of him having to find yet another job when he’s too young to retire, but too old to accept lower pay, all coupled with the harsh fact that our daughter was still in college, was daunting. But life has a funny way of rerouting you when you least expect it. After several months of financial, professional and emotional uncertainty, he got an offer. And it came with a relocation to Florida. So OK, there are worse places to land for a new job, than a beach town but still, moving away from our home and friends and most especially, our daughter, who opted to stay at her university, was a major upheaval. Moving is one of the top anxieties that physicians consider when assessing a person’s mental and physical health. There’s the sheer overwhelming physical work that comes with prepping your home to sell it, packing, the purging, the staging, it’s all just so much! Then there’s also the emotional side of saying goodbye to the place you’ve called home for 15 years. It really didn’t hit me till we landed here. You’re just so busy with the move that it often seems very matter-of-factly until after it actually happens. But we made it and now he’s all settled into his new position down here in Florida, and now that we’re unpacked, we’re slowly finding our rhythm again — even if I still can’t tell a palmetto bug from a small helicopter.

Thankfully, back then, I had a five-year-old holding my hand, and every new beginning was filtered through her wide-eyed wonder. Making friends, finding schools, volunteering, organizing bake sales, shuffling my girl from school to dance Studios every night, my whole world revolved around her, and I didn’t mind one bit. But this time? She’s grown. She’s a college student, finding her own way. And this time, I’m the one nervously standing in a new place, wondering what comes next.

For years, I set aside the part of me that once chased stories and deadlines. Before “Mom” became my favorite title, I was a journalist, a PR professional — curious, driven, ambitious and always scribbling notes in the margins of life. My entire life was written in a Franklin planner. Somewhere along the way, those structured planners were replaced by grocery lists and permission slips, and the woman who used to write for herself became the woman who wrote everyone else’s to-do lists.

But here’s the thing about dreams: they don’t really disappear. They just wait patiently for you to come back for them.

So, as I unpack boxes and try to remember which light switch controls which ceiling fan, I’m also unearthing that part of myself I tucked away long ago. The writer. The observer. The storyteller. The woman who finds meaning in everyday moments and humor in the chaos.

Florida has its quirks — the heat, the bugs, and the lizards that seem to have squatters’ rights on our lanai — but it also has sunshine. And maybe that’s what I needed most. A little light to remind me that it’s okay to start over. That it’s okay to rediscover the parts of myself that got lost somewhere between carpools and college move-ins. And most importantly, that it’s never too late to go back and pick up pursuing your long lost dreams, regardless of your age.

This blog — Just Jonesin’ w/ Jan — is my open window. A space to breathe, to laugh, to remember, and to write again. And if you’ve ever found yourself staring at an empty nest or an unfamiliar skyline, wondering where “you” went in the middle of all the moving boxes, then maybe you’ll find a little of yourself here, too. Because I’m learning that finding my way back to me doesn’t mean looking back and dwelling on the shoulda/woulda/couldas and “if onlys” of my life but rather — finally stepping forward and writing my next chapter. I may be in the second half of this book of life but there are still plenty of exciting plot twists along the way and I’m excited to experience them and share them with you! And I’m making it my mission to encourage my fellow Generation Jonesers to embrace YOUR next chapter right along with me! ###