What do you know? As of today, I haven't lived in Texas for ten years.
I was born in Texas, lived in five different places in three other states before the age of 9, then was moved back to Texas. I spent the next -- what was it? -- 23 or 24 years plotting to get out of Texas. In fact, I spent so much time plotting that I actually didn't get around to getting out until I was in my thirties. Indeed, I think I began to suspect that all places outside of Texas only existed in my imagination or in some other medium than reality.
Since then, I've lived in seven different places (if you don't count extended stays in hotels) in five different states. The longest that I've stayed in any one place has been four years, and that is probably the first place I have seriously considered a home in all of this time. I'm now sitting in the place that will be my eighth residence in yet a sixth state while the Gentleman Caller books us flights to the ninth residence in, not another state, but another country.
You could say that I'm making up for that middle quarter century of plotting.
Needless to say, I'm facing some of my anxieties -- at least at this particular moment between freak-outs.
Thank you for all of your advice in the comments to the last post. This is all a bit like jumping out of an airplane. I know I have a parachute, I really want to do this, but I just have to control the instinctive desire to run, shrieking, "what in the hell am I doing?!"
ETA: Of course, then I look up, and see the Gentleman Caller at the other end of the table, and I realize, "that's what the hell I am doing, and it's great!"