A big life change? Maybe.

 This road trip is different. 

It’s not about adventure or travel.  It’s not about photography, visiting national parks or about getting back to nature.  This road trip is different because it’s about finding another place to live that’s not in California.

Normally, I am well prepared, packed a week ahead of time, but this time everything was done at the last minute.  It wasn’t from lack of planning, but from my wanting to put off for as long as possible the emotions that I knew would come.  There have been fleeting moments of excitement for this “new chapter” in my life, but mostly there has been guilt and indecision. 

When most children are returning to their elderly parents to care for them, I am abandoning mine.  It seems selfish for me to want to leave San Diego, the place I was born and raised. It seems selfish to leave my parents at a time when they are needing my help the most.  I can afford to live in California, but I can’t afford to live my life in California. 

The decision to move was not one made in haste.  These thoughts have been in my mind since 2018, actually for much longer.  Moving was something my ex and I discussed doing when we retired.  I’ve been retired now for over three years; however, it’s taken me this long to get the confidence to even consider it.  It is a huge life change for me and I’m not sure if I am ready for it or if I can do it on my own.

The rollercoaster of emotion is fast and fierce.  I don’t know if I am making the right decision.  I make excuses as to why I should stay in San Diego, but then I use the same excuses as to why I should leave. The arguments within my mind are endless.   Half the time I am excited, the other half I am crying.  And then there are those rare times when I am absolutely terrified by even the thought of leaving San Diego and it takes a moment for me to catch my breathe.  I wonder if this is what a panic attack feels like?

The road to Utah is long and the severity of my mood increases with every mile.

I’m driving north on Interstate 15 when there is an accident, or so I think.  Otherwise, why would traffic be at a complete stop on the freeway?  It’s stop and go for twenty minutes, but there is no sign of anything that shows cause for the traffic, but in that time, my mood worsens. 

I am tired.  I got on the road at 6:30am, but it wasn’t early enough to beat the heat of the Nevada desert.  It’s 100-degrees when I reach Las Vegas.  I am irritated at everyone and everything, so it only seems fitting that when I cross the border into Utah, a rock hits my windshield causing a crack to snake its way across the window. 

I’m wondering if this is a sign.  Maybe I should go home, abandon all thought of moving to Utah?  Maybe I should return to the familiarity of a lifetime spent in San Diego?  But I don’t.  Instead, I check into a Motel 6 in Cedar City where the lobby smells like poop.  How apropos.

The next morning, the lobby still stinks, but now the entire hallway does as well.   The woman behind the counter puts down her spray bottle and rag that she’s been wiping everything with to give me my receipt at check-out.  I consider telling her about the smell, but then I wonder why she can’t smell it on her own?  Plus, I don’t have the energy.  I let her go back to sanitizing against COVID without saying a word.

Focusing on getting to Draper, where I have made hotel reservations at the Hampton Inn, has helped to subdue the voices in my head, but my thoughts are still heavy.  Doubt creeps in at every opportunity and I feel myself returning to the foul mood of yesterday. 

Along the freeway, I see a sign for Cedar Breaks National Monument.  I have never been, so I quickly exit.  The drive from I-15 to Brian Head along Hwy 143 is a pretty one.  My thoughts soon drift to nature and my mood improves. 

Cedar Breaks is a natural amphitheater, stretching across 3 miles, with a depth of over 2,000 feet.  The rim sits at about 10,000 feet in elevation.  The rock of the amphitheater is like that of Bryce Canyon National Park, but unlike the national park, Cedar Breaks attracts less visitors.   For the most part, I am alone.  It takes me only an hour and a half to drive through the park and back again, but it is exactly what I need to soothe my soul. 

The next day I begin my search for apartments, but it is disappointing.  I cross many off my list without even touring them because I don’t like the location.  And those in my preferred location don’t have the amenities I am looking for, like a garage, or they are older builds when I am wanting something new.  I have a long list of apartments to see, but there is white smoke billowing up from behind the Wasatch Mountains.  The air is thick and it is difficult to breath.  I cut short my apartment hunt and retreat to the air conditioning of my hotel room. 

Maybe the fire is another sign I shouldn’t move to Utah?

The Parley Canyon fire was caused by an overheated catalytic converter on a vehicle.  It is east of Salt Lake City on the south side of Interstate 80 near Park City. I am in no danger, but the air quality is horrible.  It is Sunday and the leasing offices of the apartments I want to look at are all closed.  I knew the offices would be closed, so instead, I planned on going to Antelope Island State Park to see birds and wild bison, but it is recommended that people stay indoors because of the smoke.  So I stay indoors.  It is like being at home.  I watch TV while not wearing any pants and snack on trail mix.

Monday morning is spent getting my cracked windshield replaced and then it is back to apartment hunting.  The air quality is still bad, but I wear a mask and spend as little time outside as possible.  During my downtime on Sunday, I re-prioritized my wants and have decided to add townhomes to my list.  From American Fork to Ogden I drive, identifying possibilities and eliminating others.  The next day I drive back and forth again looking at more and more apartments.

Over the past six days, I have looked at dozens of apartments and townhomes and have a folder full of literature, along with a binder of handwritten notes about each one.  It has been overwhelming and exhausting.  The internal bickering resumes as do my tears.  More questions, more doubts.  I have had a stomachache for two days.  Because of my mood and of the wildfires that are burning pretty much in all the western states, I decide to end my trip early and return home. 

The uncertainty and doubt that plagued me on my trip to Utah, stay with me all the way home.  I am even less sure as I sort through all the information I have gathered.  I ask myself the same questions, make the same rationalizations, and experience the same guilt and anxiety as before.  However, it all comes down to one simple question that I’ve asked myself a million times over the last few days:  Should I move to Utah?

And the answer is YES.  Yes, I am moving to Utah in October.