And there are days where I don't get a lot done. I feel panic about life and my decision to be unemployed during this time. I randomly apply for jobs. I don't write. I wonder where more Cave Girl clients can be found. I think about essays I want to get on paper and then practically watch them float right out of my head and to wherever it is that good ideas go to die. I spend a lot of time watching a capella groups on YouTube. I leave laundry in the dryer for a week. I don't plan dinner. I decide not to go to the gym and then beat myself up over all the time I have and how little I am doing with it. I feel like Rob and I are alone in this city and I hate my blog and there's crap all over the floor and I just feel so anxious.

I think the biggest struggle so far has definitely been in learning to be kinder to myself. In learning to accept this season as the huge blessing that it is. In trying to be successful, whatever that might mean; and trying not to feel like a failure, whatever that might mean. To feel lucky and blessed, but to do it without guilt.

Rob has been so wonderfully supportive. When I panic and apply for fifteen random jobs I find on Craigslist (this happens more often than I'd like to admit), he tells me that if I want to get a job while we're here, I should get one, but to remember that it might get in the way of my goals to do other things this year. And it's true. With the uncertainty of how long we'll be here and where we'll go next (not to mention the two weeks I'm planning to spend in Virginia for Thanksgiving, closely followed by ten days for Christmas), it's hard to be taken seriously in an interview.

I managed to get in touch with a staffing agency who is starting to throw part-time gigs my way, which will give me a reason to dress up and get out of the house while simultaneously making a little money. Offices need receptionists and copywriters, and I have pretty free afternoons most of the time. My blog has been paying my student loans since August, which was a huge goal I made before I moved and actually sometimes can't believe I'm meeting, but it will feel good to contribute something more to our household income.

Moving to Minnesota felt like it would be the end of a huge transition, but I'm starting to accept the fact that life is just a series of changes. One day I might wake up and feel like my feet are finally firmly planted where they're supposed to be, but I know it won't be tomorrow, and I think that's okay.

It's my last day of work. I'm going in, going to finish up a few things, pack up my dry-erase calendar that I've updated every month for the past year, have lunch with the girls in my department, and say goodbye to everyone.

There were sometimes a few days (okay, maybe weeks) over the last two months where I felt like leaving my job was going to be easy. But now, on my last day, I'm realizing that it'll be harder than I thought. I've made some great friends, and I've enjoyed spending my days with them. I've learned a lot. And I will miss it.

I'm not good at goodbyes. They make me sadder than I need to be. I prefer to just announce the next time we'll see each other. I'll be back in Roanoke again in September, and even if I don't get around to visiting or seeing everyone, it will feel okay because I will be back. No going-away parties, please. It's the finality of a real goodbye that makes me anxious.

This week, I've been coming home pretty much immediately after work, catching up with Rob and my family, eating dinner, trying to find the motivation to do some pull-ups or at least go on a walk, and then watching an episode of Game of Thrones (I just started last week and am obsessed) before I throw myself into bed, wishing there could just be another half hour in a day. I haven't found the time to do little things like paint my nails or read blogs or fold clothes that have accumulated throughout the week (you know, life things), but I think I'll get the hang of it soon enough.