the first freakout

Yesterday was a horrible no-good rotten day. It held my first official downright ridiculous freakout about my move, but fortunately my parents and friends were there to pick up the pieces and I made it home safe and sound back in Slayton. I woke up early yesterday morning in an absolute panic: dryheaving, tears, everything--just came completely out of left field. It subsided shortly after it started and the morning held packing and cleaning out my dorm room. The mood was fairly morose as I hauled stuff out to my car; we had a thunderstorm in the early hours, and the sun finally started peeking out as I left Little Sand Bay. After hugging it out with my roomie and former yardmates I stopped in both visitor centers to say goodbye to my park friends, and hit the dusty trail about 11:30. Amnicon was my last stop before Duluth, and I was so glad that I popped in...two friends that I haven't seen in forever and a day were visiting, and I got a chance to catch up with them too. I soaked up as much Amnicon love as I could, even filled up my water bottles there for a familiar treat on the way home, and eventually departed mid-afternoon. Goodbyes are a detested thing anyway, but these were especially tough. I wasn't in the mindset yesterday to process all of them as a "see you later" rather than a "goodbye forever," but the smiles and well wishes of friends (and my handmade Princess Podcast crown from the HQ ladies) kept me going until I watched Duluth disappear in my review mirror. Then the dam burst again and I literally pulled off the road to cry it out.

By the way, this is a characteristic Katie Freeman freakout. I usually operate by having one or two intense burnouts a year. I normally am a bottle-upper and resist losing my cool in a stressful situation--until, of course, the layers of emotional turmoil pile up too far and everything I'd been worried about for the last six months pushes through. Better I get it out now than in Alaska though, right?

Anyway, I got back on the road and called my dad after making it about 60 miles south on 35...and upon hearing his voice and vocalizing my concerns I started up again and stopped driving long enough to talk it out with him (aside from the whole mascara-blurring-my-vision thing, I didn't want to lose reception in the middle of an emotional breakdown.) Times like these make me feel about four years old, and I call my dad when I don't want coddling or too much soothing. I can trust him to shut off the waterworks and get me back on track in my thinking, which, true to form, is exactly what happened. He has the unique ability to reassuringly pull me out of my self-dug pits. Anyway, we figured life out and I hung up feeling better about the situation. THEN my car started getting jumpy, as it usually does when I put different fuel in it (she really, really hates Shell and Blue Planet gas, which was the combo in her tank at the time) and I whiteknuckled the steering wheel, muttering under my breath "please don't die, please don't die" until I reached Hwy. 23. She settled down after that, got the burps out of her system, and I relaxed for another good portion of my drive, listening to some great music--Mason and Jack, my eternal loves of the musician sort. In between St. Cloud and Spicer I called my friend Saucy Ranger, and chatted with him for about 1/2 an hour (this is why my trip took forever...at least I pull over to talk.) It was so good to hear his voice, and the conversation turned my mood from recovery mode to semi-relaxed mode. Dad called again when I was in Granite to make sure I was doing alright, and after stopping at the farm quick in Marshall to grab my mail, I hit Slayton about four hours past my estimated time of arrival. Damn estrogen!

THEN I found out after reading the day's local paper that the car accident that had killed an aquaintance at school (remember, we've already lost 2 school friends this year, now a third) also put in the hospital two of my buddies, one in serious condition and one who actually went home this morning, according to Facebook. This was a serious blow...these girls are amazing, incredible people who are not only dealing with their own physical injuries, but the emotional toil of being hit and having a loved one die as well. Fortunately, I am going to Sioux Falls tomorrow with Chuck to visit the one in serious condition...he has an appointment and I'll tag along to be with him and visit her.

Jeez.

Okay, so today's been much better. In accordance with all other Freeman freakouts I have been good and productive on the day after the storm...got my graduate loan stuff figured out, faxed my school documents to the school, emailed my profs about classes, joined the APU network on Facebook and made friends who may be able to give me rides to school this year if it comes to that, called Dad and wished him happy birthday, worked and earned a little money at Mom's cafe, and spilled my brain droppings onto my blog once more. I feel pretty accomplished. : ) I still have an incredibly amount of sorting and packing to do, but now that the jitters have vacated my system I only have room for the intense excitement that I have for this journey I'm embarking on. Somedays I feel that I'm embarking up the wrong tree, but the reassurance and constant support that flows from family and friends sends me back into excited mode. Thanks everyone. I think this is going to work out.