Remorse is an interesting word. According to the internet, the word remorse can be defined by deep and painful regret for wrongdoing. When applying it to my current situation I'd say that's pretty dramatic, but I can't think of another way to describe how I am feeling.
We've all experienced buyer's remorse. Most of us have experienced seller's remorse. And now I find myself experiencing a new kind of remorse. Mover's remorse. This temporary feeling that I am having is just that. Temporary. I know that, and you should too. But since our return trip to our new home I've been longing for my old life. The life where I was a homeowner and my kids could play outside. The life where I could take a walk that wasn't around an apartment complex full of parked cars. The life where I could call up a number of different friends or family members to get together for lunch, dinner, or a simple morning playdate. I miss that life so desperately right now.
This is not a post announcing my unhappiness. I am not unhappy. My children, my husband, and even my still meaningful relationships with the people we've left behind make me very happy. I am just a bit lonely. I did not feel this way when we first arrived here in October. We had so much fun exploring new parks and places to bring our children. We enjoyed the warmer temperatures, the amenities in the area, and dreaming about what the future holds for us. But even North Carolina has a winter and the cold weather has restricted our exploring. Being inside with nothing to do and no one to call has made me see the harsh reality that my network of available friends is 600 miles away. Kinda far for a playdate. I'm (mostly) sure that we made the right decision in moving here. Ron had very little job prospects in Connecticut, and we could no longer afford our lifestyle there. We are now living a bit more comfortably and he has a job starting this week after 6 long months of unemployment. But apartment living is hard on a family of three young children.
I'm trying to focus on the big picture. We will have a good life here. It will feel comfortable eventually. We will make friends, connections, and memories here. Our children will thrive because I will see to it that they do. I've already joined a nice group of moms that have frequent playdates. I've signed Joey up for a movement class at the community center, and I am researching other activities that we can get involved in to help us make new friends. In the spring we will (hopefully) start house hunting and we will settle into a nice neighborhood. So the future looks bright. But when I sit in this apartment with the heat cranked up, the children bored with being inside, and all of our wonderful outdoor toys stacked a mile high in a storage unit it's sometimes hard to remember just how bright.