I’m thinking of it like bungee jumping. (Not that I have nearly enough guts to do that, but I’ll use my imagination.) At first you’re like:
I can’t do it. I can’t do it. How could I ever jump off this bridge not knowing what will happen next?
(Of course, this represents the phase where you contemplate leaving your job/boyfriend/husband/house/whatever.)
And at first, you’re all like- YEAH. This is awesome. I jumped, I’m in the air, I’m so brave, this is so amazing.
(The time right after you leave where you’re proud you did it and you have feelings that you were right about leaving.)
But then you realize you’re no where near the bridge and the part where your stomach drops is coming. EW.
(This sucks. Like really, really, really badly. This is where I am when I’m writing this post. I want to
A. Take it all back and make myself feel better and B. Crawl into bed and cry all night. I want to throw up, scream, sob, and feel sorry for myself.)
And the worst part is…I’m dipping in an out of these phases. They don’t come once and go. They come and go, go and come back, stay for a quick second, or stay for entire days at a time. At this point, I just want to get back on solid ground.
This really isn’t a very inspiring post. You probably knew that when you read the title. You had fair warning! Stay tuned for the inspiring post when I’m out of this phase and happy with my decision again. At least you have the honest truth about what it feels like to jump.