Existential angst

This week marks my one year anniversary in my current position. It's been a pretty good year, overall, and I'm still happy to be here. But during my vacation (most of August) and since I've been home, I've been experiencing some existential angst.

Part of it, I know, is just realizing I've been here a year. I've moved often enough to know that at the year milestone I have to readjust myself somehow. I'm not "new" anymore; I have no excuse for not knowing how to get around or who people are. But I'm not "seasoned" either--I really haven't had time to learn everything I need to know about a place. And inevitably at the one year point I realize (again) that all my friends are somewhere else--not only have I moved (again) but I'm slow to make friends in most circumstances, and my job makes it even harder to have real friends as opposed to people I am friendly with.

Another factor is missing other places I love. Every time I go back to Vermont, I get homesick. I really loved living there, and at one point I thought I'd live there forever. I can't be sorry I left, because I wouldn't give up having gone to seminary, or living in NY, or all the friends I've gained, or the work I do now, but oh, I do still miss Vermont. And I miss being closer to my grandchildren and my daughters. I love spending time with Little Miss J and Baby M, and they are just far enough away that I can't go for just a day. It does help that I am closer to my other favorite place, and can hop on a train to the city almost any time I want to, but if I had the opportunity to move back to Vermont, I think I'd jump at the chance.

Then there's my job. I'm not unhappy, and I think things are going well for the most part, but it is lonely sometimes. I'm grateful for colleagues, both in real-life and in cyberspace, and for my clergy coach, because there are aspects of where I am that are very challenging, both in positive and negative ways.

And part of it is just me. I never planned to live my life this way, but I've ended up as a bit of a tumbleweed. I've always had one eye on the present and the other on the next thing to come, and that almost always involved being somewhere else. The one exception was when I moved to Vermont to take my tenure track job. I quickly fell in love with the place; the next thing to come was tenure but it would mean staying, not leaving.  Of course, the huge irony is that at the same time I got tenure I was discerning my call to become a priest, and that did mean leaving, at least for a while. And now it's not clear if I can go back, at least in the forseeable future.

Lest this come across as whiney, I'm not meaning to whine, and I'm not unhappy. More reflective, and perhaps a bit wistful at times?  I know this is part of my process of being in a new and different place, and it's not a bad thing. And honestly, I can't imagine what it would be like to have always lived in the same place. I'd bet that creates its own angst.