Tabitha Goes Pacific Northwest: How I Went From Terrified to a Whole New Era, Part 4

We officially reached the week I cried.

Five weekends left in this house. My kid's last week of school. Two weeks out from my final nonprofit fundraiser. Six podcast episodes recording weekly. A cross-country move counting down in real time. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, my tear ducts decided they had been patient long enough.

Let me walk you through it.

First, graduation.

I could not be more proud of my kid if I tried. This is the child I packed up and moved for, the one I built every decision around for eighteen years, the one who just threw away a two-thousand-dollar Texas scholarship without blinking because they are Colorado-bound and they know exactly where they are going. I sat through nearly five hours of assemblies this week alone, and I would sit through five more (and likely will).

But here is the thing nobody warns you about when your kid finishes school.

The schedule just stops.

Eighteen years of wake-up times and pickup windows and planning everything around the school calendar and then one day it is just gone. No more last weeks of school after this one. No more first days. That chapter is closing and I am so proud and also it feels genuinely strange in a way I did not expect. Like a song you have had on repeat for over a decade suddenly going silent.

We are also nearly one week out from my final fundraiser with the nonprofit I will officially no longer be part of after it is over. I have been the third vice president, running sales, social media, tours, events, the website, emails, all of it. And I genuinely liked being third vice president. That title was mine and now it will not be and that is another thing quietly ending while everything else is also ending at the same time.

A lot of chapters are closing at once. That is the only way I know how to say it.

Now here is the part that actually made me cry.

I have one person I know on the west coast. My traveling north star. The person I call before any trip, any hike, any adventure requiring local knowledge for pretty much any location. Need the best campsites in the area? Give him thirty seconds he has been there. Looking for an eclectic trail or a scenic location nobody else knows about? He has already pulled up his phone because he has been twice. When my kid and I get tired on a hike and need motivation, we reference this man, knowing he would have lapped us eighty-seven times, probably walking on his hands, backwards, while reciting trail facts.

He lives in the Pacific Northwest. Not Portland but close enough that when Portland first came up he was one of the first people I reached out to. He understood exactly what I was giving up. The food, the sun, the weather, the Texas beaches. He was the one who gently broke the news that Oregon beaches were not going to be the bikini situation I was used to.

When I officially turned in my notice and confirmed I was moving, I let him know I was joining him up in Twilight country. Ironically as the last time I saw him was about an hour from Forks, Washington, which in hindsight feels very on brand for me.

The excitement was real.

Right up until we realized I would be arriving shortly after he was getting deployed.

I am going to pause here because I have a lot of feelings about what is happening in the world right now and knowing this wonderful person is now headed into the middle of it scares me in a way most horror movies would genuinely be envious of. I do not love using the three-letter W word because it makes it feel worse so we will call it a very long military vacation he did not ask to take.

And then right behind that fear came something I am slightly embarrassed to admit.

I felt selfish.

Because yes, I am moving across the country to a city I have never really experienced, into a home I have never been to, knowing virtually no one. But in the back of my mind I had this quiet comfort. Six hours away and two ferry rides was someone I knew. A little piece of home. For those of you thinking that is nowhere close, remember that in Texas nine hours of driving still has you in Texas. We do not measure distance in miles, we measure it in time. So he was less than a drive across our home state away.

And now that comfort is gone for a while.

So I cried because my friend is off on a very long military vacation that terrifies me.

Then I cried because I felt guilty for also being sad about losing my tiny piece of home.

Then I cried because I genuinely hate crying and now my face was red and I had a headache and here we are.

Moving on.

Because life does not pause for feelings and this week had absolutely no intention of slowing down.

Every single day this week has contained an award ceremony, a school event, something to prepare for a school event, or college prep. I have sat through nearly five hours of assemblies last week. We have hit graduation week. And I am doing all of that while also recording six podcast episodes a week across two sessions, running my final nonprofit fundraiser countdown, and oh yes, still running an entire business.

Currently on the work front I am editing, writing, doing website design, rebuilding historical documents, managing social media, handling engagement, setting up backends, and more. I made color brand boards for a church this week that honestly someone should pay me to name colors professionally because I have a gift and the world deserves to know it.

Then there is the packing situation, which has entered its awkward middle phase. The rarely used stuff is mostly packed. I am turbo charging through things that do not need to come, cleaning supplies, approximately nine thousand candles, things of that nature. But the parts of the house we actually live in cannot be packed yet because we are still, in fact, living in them. It is a very fun puzzle.

Then there is the horrid wallet portion of this week's program.

The dogs needed every shot and test known to veterinary science plus several I had never heard of before in order to be kenneled in Portland if the need ever arises. If this were a fairytale I would have had to trade a small child to an evil queen for this visit.

Then there is the car situation. I love my Toyota. She is safe, smooth, and wonderful. She also does not have remote start, which when you are about to be solo with two dogs in the Pacific Northwest is a genuine need and not a luxury. Toyota being the absolute chaotic entity that she is does not allow you to add remote start without a bumped-up model and a monthly subscription to start the car you already own. A monthly subscription. To start your car. That you own. I will let that sit for a moment because what in the actual f*ck..

So I set out on a noble quest, visited my trusted mechanic, and was lovingly redirected to someone who could actually help me. They are fitting me in during the two most insane weeks of my life. Bless them. This is not counting the full car tune-up coming because not only am I driving cross-country to Oregon but two weeks after the big move I am turning around and driving a twenty-six-hundred-mile round trip to Colorado Springs to take my kid to college. My Toyota is going to need a pep talk and love that would inspire Greek myths.

So what do you do when you are staring down a billion things to do and a shrinking amount of time to do them?

Here is what has genuinely been working for me. (Warning: it is not wine)

Boundaries are still everything. Knowing where my energy goes and what is flatly not worth it has become non-negotiable. But beyond that, I have been ruthless about protecting the things that refill me too. Prioritizing fun with my kid. Long phone calls with my sister. Time with friends before I leave. The Outlander season finale treated like a full celebration rather than background noise while I scroll for shoes. When your time is this compressed, you stop taking the good stuff for granted.

I have also gotten really honest about batching my work. My business builder retainer clients, which is essentially where I embed into a business and run the backend operations on an ongoing basis, have been a game changer for this season specifically. If a client's needs fit that model, for example if it is social media, I build out their entire month of content in one focused week and spend the rest of the month on engagement only. It protects their results, and it protects my time. Both things can be true.

The other thing that has surprised me is how the pressure of this move has made me tackle things I would normally let drag on forever. Called my insurance company about coverage changes. Ten minutes, done, and the person on the phone pointed me toward vendors that could actually serve my needs in Oregon. Canceled my gym membership in a five-minute phone call and a five-minute drive instead of paying for another six months I would never use. Scope creep with clients is getting caught faster than ever because I simply do not have the bandwidth to let it slide.

Every week of this process is teaching me something I did not expect to learn.

That is the part I keep coming back to. I thought I was planning a move. 

Turns out I am in the middle of the most accelerated personal and professional development of my life and the tuition is just boxes and vet bills and a very expensive remote start situation.

If you want to follow along for every part of this, the messy parts and the proud parts and the parts where I cry about crying, come join the newsletter. This is where the real documentation lives and I want the next person walking this path to have the breadcrumbs I never got.